Things we do for love
by pellaeonthewingedlion
Summary: The Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock visit her family at Winterfell. How will the Stark family react since Sansa had left two years ago to marry Tyrion Lannister under unforeseen circumstances? How did she changed? How is her life as the infamous Imp's wife
1. Prologue

**First great thanks to my beta Andrich**

**More Autor's Notes at the end**

**I own nothing, at all**

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Tyrion stood in front of the imbedded golden plate, not moving. He had stood at this very same place for hours now.

The Hall of Heroes, the tomb for all members of his house, was dimly lit with flickering torches. Only the sounds of the waves, crashing against the outside of the Rock, were to hear. Tyrion was confused, his insides had knotted days ago and nothing could relax them since then. In the first days he had longed for wine and whores to distract himself from what had happened. It hadn't worked, nothing worked. He felt empty inside.

He hadn't cried, not a single tear had escaped his eyes. He had only stood there in the centre of a storm, stoic, the world flying around him without him even noticing what happened. He had been dull, he was dull. He had no idea what the future would bring now, how he would manage what lied in front of him. All the responsibilities, the duties. How would his House continue based solely on him?

He was sure this year would be seen an epochal year. It was the year 295 after Aegon's landing and Lord Tywin Lannister, the old lion was dead.

By law Tyrion was now the Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, and the Lion of Lannister. All had fallen on him, not only the castle but the legacy of his house as well. He was afraid, afraid he would fail. The mighty and rich house Lannister could end with the reign of him, the Imp. He was afraid that his father had been right all along, that he was nothing more than an incompetent fool.

The man in question, who now lay under the massive golden plate, who Tyrion hated most of his life, but also the man whose respect and love he had craved for, had never loved him or had wanted him to have the Rock. He had preferred Jaime be his heir, but in the end he had been dead and nobody spoke against Tyrion's lawful claim. Not the Lords or the King, certainly his sister but nobody else. Tyrion suspected they hoped for a weak Lord who would make things easier for them, and had sworn to disappoint them. He wouldn't fail his father's legacy, even if Lord Tywin surely raged at the moment in the hall of the Father.

Lord Tywin had died during a hunting trip, killed by a stag. According to his men he had ambushed it with his horse but the animal had decided to fight, attacking him and his horse. The horse stumbled and had buried his father under it. Lord Tywin seemed to have fallen very unlucky, and had broken his neck. Maybe a godly punishment? The great Lord of the Westerlands killed by a stag, an irony of history.

Tyrion had been shocked when they had brought him in the Rock, lying on a tumbrel. Tyrion had just arrived from a trip to Lannisport, drunk with wine. First he hadn't realized what had happened, then he had vomited. His so noble father had looked shattered, covered in mud and blood, like a gutter rat.

Genna had managed the funeral, while Kevan and he had sent the ravens. All had to be informed, Jaime, Cersei, the lieges. Jaime and Cersei were too far away and so hadn't been able to attend the ceremony. Cersei had sent a raven, but Jaime was on his way to the Rock, most likely riding his horse to death.

The King had sent his condolences as well, and luckily it seemed the Small Council had advised him to acknowledge Tyrion as Lord and Warden. The last thing he needed would have been to fight for his right. Many other Lords had sent their regrets not to attend too. Only the raven from Dorne had seemed convincing. But Tyrion was sure they had just wanted to see if he really was dead, maybe while dancing on his grave.

Briefly Tyrion had thought about doing the same, dancing on his father's grave, but he had decided not to. Instead he had stood guard for him, in the cold Sept of the Rock. Many Lords and knights had wanted to stand guard with him, but he had sent all of them away. Only Jaime would have been allowed to stand with him.

During the nights in the Sept, braced on a short blade, he had realized it had been the longest time he ever spent with his father. And Lord Tywin hadn't been able to talk back to his stunned dwarf son.

Creepy as it sounded Tyrion had started to talk to the corpse, first trying to persuade the dead that he was a worthy son. Later it had turned to Tyrion shooting accusations towards him. Tyrion had called his father an obstinate, old, spiteful man without eyes for his children, and that he was as worthy as his siblings, whose unnatural love for each other he had never seen.

The Sept had been overcrowded with Lords of the Westerlands in the next days. Tyrion had been tired, and had nearly fallen asleep once until Genna had kicked him discreetly. Her gaze had woken him up immediately. It had been very silent, all the Lords and Ladies had bowed their heads in front of the corpse. The grim expression on his father's dead face had been all too real.

After the ceremony, the Lords had begun renewing their pledges of fealty to House Lannister. Only a Lord of the Rock could lay a Lannister to rest in the Hall of Heroes, even if this Lannister had been the Lion of Lannister himself. So it had to be done first.

Still tired from the night, Tyrion had sunken into the golden lion throne, surrounded by gold and crimson. Lord after Lord had bent the knee in front of him, declaring him their Lord.

Normally Tyrion had enjoyed this, all these supercilious little Lords on their knees in front of him, but his father was dead and suddenly he was alone. Now all responsibilities fell onto him, nobody would come to him, lecture him, and clean up his mess.

Yes, he had Kevan and Genna, but even his father's siblings wouldn't free him of this burden.

After the second ceremony of the day, Tyrion had led the cortege down the steps, through the heart of the Rock, to the Hall of Heroes. In the cold dark room, carved out of the stone, his father had been laid to rest beside his wife.

Her grave was covered by a marble statue of her, lying peacefully with closed eyes and folded hands on the golden gravestone. Her hair golden, she was the image of beauty and at the same moment a mirror of Tyrion's sister, Cersei.

Soon his father would receive his own statue, grim and noble. It would remind Tyrion of his ruthlessness every time he would go down here.

One after one, the guests had left for the funeral feast until only he remained. Tyrion wasn't hungry, nor did he wish to be with all these men at the moment. He preferred the solitude of the hall over those hypocrites who feasted because his father was dead.

He would feast in his own way tonight. He had sent out servants to bring him beautiful whores of all kinds together with the sweetest wine they could find. He also ordered them to lay furs out in the old throne room. Tyrion intended to turn his new seat, and the room, into his personal temple for the night. He hoped that all of the debauchery would distract him from his father and the consequences that had followed after his death.

Tywin Lannister wouldn't have approved of his plan, so maybe it would be Tyrion's last act of disobedience against him, of making a mockery out of him. He would see it from the afterlife and would rage.

Time passed, and Tyrion suddenly heard two pairs of shoes echoing through the hall, coming towards him. He also heard a gown moving over the stone floor.

Tyrion didn't move, or turn his head, he had a pretty good suspicion who it was. The two persons stopped behind him, Tyrion could feel their gazes upon him but they kept silent for a while.

"We have to talk." His uncle Kevan made himself heard from behind him. He sounded sad, after all his brother lie dead in a hole in front of him, a golden plate covering his remains. Tyrion had never heard him so sad, so weak, but also so determined at the same time. Tyrion thought about how he would sound were it Jaime lying in front of him. How he would speak to Joffrey, Myrcella or Tommen? Not that he ever would, it would be too awkward.

"It is important." Genna, the second one, urged him. She didn't sound sad or weak. On a different occasion Tyrion would have smirked. His aunt was a true lioness, strong when needed, cunning, and proud. She was what Cersei thought herself to be. Tyrion was glad she was there, glad that somebody was strong, because he didn't feel strong at the moment.

"Of course we can speak. I always have an ear for my beloved family." Tyrion replied, not moving his gaze from the golden plate.

_Tywin Lannister_

_Lord of Casterly Rock_

_Shield of Lannisport_

_Warden of the West_

_The great Lion_

_242 – 295_

_Beloved husband father and brother_

_Great Lord_

_Hand of the King_

_May the Father give him rest_

_Hear me roar_

'Beloved father' Tyrion nearly choked when he read that line, he had read it over and over again, and he still couldn't believe it.

"You are the Lord now, and that means things are expected of you." Kevan continued, sounding a bit like a lecturer. "Things your father would have expected from you, things expected of you by the rest of Westeros, expected of Tywin Lannister's son."

Tyrion had suggested adding the words his father had told him on his sixteenth Nameday to the inscription: "No man is free. Only children and fools think elsewise." But Genna had objected, although Tyrion found it perfect for the situation. Back then he had thought he would be free. He had been wrong and now he still wasn't free, his father's shadow would always be over him.

"And what might that be uncle?" Tyrion asked absently. He had only listened with one ear, all his mind was focused on the gravestone in front of him.

"Listen Tyrion you…" Kevan started, but was interrupted.

"For gods sake Kevan get to the point!" Genna shouted loudly, startling Tyrion out of his stiffness. She sounded annoyed and frustrated. Finally Tyrion turned away from the golden plate to face his aunt and uncle.

Kevan looked even more sunken than he had during the day, he might have stood beside him when the Lords pledged their fealty, but Tyrion had already known that Kevan was at the end of his power, like had had been and was. Genna on the other hand didn't let anybody see how she felt in the inside, she stood high and proud like the Rock itself in front of him. Maybe she had the size of it as well.

"It is time you stopped living like a whore monger from Lys or the Summer Islands and start acting like a Lord." Genna stated stringently, fixing her eyes on him. She was the only one he knew who could stare in his mismatched eyes without blinking, except for his father of course.

"And what would you have me do?" Tyrion was not sure what exactly she wanted, nor had he known that she shared his father's attitude towards his whoring or drinking. She had always amused by it. Tyrion liked his whores and wasn't willing to give them up so easily. Yes, it gave him a certain reputation, but who cared?

"From now on all your doings will fall back onto our House. Everything will be seen as a weakness. A weakness they can use against you, against our House." Kevan explained quietly, but still made his point. He gestured around with his hand. "See where you stand. In front of all your, our, ancestors. It's not only you now. You are now responsible for all of us. Not only the dead, but also the living."

"The reputation of your House affects more people than you Tyrion." Genna took over, gazing him down. Tyrion felt like a lectured boy. He felt bad too, because they were right. "Marriage prospects, knighthoods, life, safety, positions, honours in the seven Kingdoms, all depend on reputation, the house you are born in." She made a pause and took a deep breath before continuing. "Tywin made sure that we were one of the richest and most powerful houses, made sure we would prosper, would be respected. You will have to take over from now on, to continue his work and add what he lacked."

"What he lacked?" Tyrion asked, curious of what exactly she meant. His father had lacked many things, he couldn't cover them all.

"Your father was more, eh, respected than loved, eh" Kevan tried to answer but couldn't find the right words.

"He was feared, but this is not enough. A lord should be loved or at least liked by his people. Tywin was too stubborn for this." Genna had no problems, apparently. "You now have the duty to keep our House's power and respect and your men's loyalty, and gain there love."

"Oh, the vile dwarf loved by the Westermen, shall I rescue the maid next?" Tyrion mocked, nearly laughing at Genna's words. But then he noticed that Kevan looked uncomfortable, while his aunt stomped her foot on the ground, crossing her arms over her chest. Her glare silenced him in the blink of an eye.

"I think it's also time you stopped whining and pitying yourself. Get a grip and become the man you are supposed to be, the man your mother wanted you to be." With her words, her stern and hard words, all blood left his head. His mother had had a vision of him, what was this?

"What was it?" He wanted to know who he was supposed to be. He felt like a hammer had hid him, sick, cracked.

"Tyrion, you must understand" Kevan spoke, low, his eyes averted. "After your mother died, Tywin changed, he…"

"Hush!" Genna interrupted him, stepping nearer to Tyrion. She took another breath and started to tell him: "Joanna loved your father, as much as he loved her, despite his faults. She thought he would be better. He was better back then, softer. Your mother saw that Jaime wouldn't be the heir he deserved. Your brother was born a knight, not a Lord. When she became pregnant, she prayed for a son worthy of his father, as intelligent and astute as him. A Lannister to continue his legacy." An odd smile appeared on her face. "Some time ago I told your father that you were indeed what your mother hoped you to be, his true son. He didn't speak to me for a long time because of it, but that doesn't make it less true. You are his son, you are like him, but less ruthless, kinder. You are what your mother wanted him to be."

Tyrion gulped by her words, he had never imagined to receive such a speech from her, from anyone in his family. Even Jaime wouldn't have said something like that. Was he really what she stated him to be, what his mother, the woman he had killed, wanted him to be? Lord Tywin's true heir? His mind was swirling, he couldn't catch all the thoughts he had at the moment, and the two in front of him didn't lend him time.

"You must stop with the whores and the excessive drinking of wine. You have to behave like a Lord should." Kevan made clear, he sounded stronger now. Tyrion didn't like the prospect, he had always enjoyed himself. But then he suddenly felt the urge to be the man his mother had wanted him to be. He turned around, facing the marble image of his mother. He stared at it for some time, in silence. She had given her life for him, the least he could do was to be what she had intended him to be.

Tyrion gave a clear nod, still too confused to speak, and looked back.

"You also will have to marry." Genna threw in with a wink. "If you want your line to continue you are in need of an heir."

"Me? Who would want to marry his daughter to me?" Tyrion asked sceptically. He once was married, and it had ended poorly.

Suddenly he felt a wave of satisfaction, quickly glancing at his father's grave.

Tyrion had never relinquished the idea of marrying one day, but who would want to marry him, the ugliest man in the seven Kingdoms? The man who is known to be so vicious like him?

"You are a powerful Lord now, don't forget that. Whoever you marry will be the long needed Lady of the Westerlands." Kevan explained to him, folding his hands behind his back, like Tyrion's father had done. It made Tyrion uncomfortable. But then something came in Tyrion's mind.

"I heard the Westerlings search a match for their daughter." One of them had ambushed Tyrion on his way from the Sept, asking if he would plan to marry soon.

"Are you nuts?" Genna exhaled in her usual tone. "They are just a minor, impoverished House, nothing more. You need somebody suitable for your position. Let alone because you are the son of one of the great Houses of Westeros."

Tyrion was a bit dumbfounded, how could he turn down a bride, even from a lesser House when he was, according to Genna, in need of one. He gazed questioningly at Kevan, who let a confident smile appear on his face.

"Don't worry. I have already found a wife for you. And her family is more than willing to marry her to you."

Who was he talking about?

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**I know I killed Tywin again, but otherwise this fic wouldn't work - does it help when I say that I actually like him (most of the times)**

**Before anybody asks I aged up the Stark-children three years, only them nobody else born after the rebellion**

**This fic is supposed to be something to enjoy, you will see in later chapters**

**Most of the fic is ready and will be posted when possible**

**I actually wanted to wait some time longer but tonight's episode arriving changed my view**

**Read and review (I depend on it (I mean it))**


	2. Bran

**First great thanks to my beta Andrich**

**GRRM owns all of it, I own nothing**

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Bran climbed over the roofs of Winterfell, the cold wind flying around his head. The day was cold and clear, and the wind was heralding the end of the summer. Winter would be upon them all very soon.

Taking a run, Bran jumped from the roof over to the inside wall. A guard had noticed him but just turned his head away in false ignorance. Bran knew his mother had ordered all guards to prevent him from climbing. She was always in worry about him, but he loved it. He felt free. The guards knew that and turned a blind eye.

Quickly he ran along the wall towards the tower at the main gate of the castle. Today would be a special day. Since his mother had told him, his siblings, and Theon nearly two months ago, he was anxious for this day. He had driven Maester Luwin mad by asking all sorts of questions about the road leading to Winterfell, about the conditions, and how long they would need.

But yesterday two scouts had come riding through the gates. By then Bran had known that the day had come. He wasn't dense, he was nine years old, old enough to interpret their arrival.

Arriving at the tower he didn't bother to use the stairs, instead Bran made his way hand over hand along the stones outside the round tower, climbing to the top. He tore open the skin of his hand at a sharp stone, as well as his shirt. His mother would be angry but in the moment he didn't care. He was too excited about what would come when reached the roof of the tower.

Stabilizing himself on the shingles, he climbed further up to the spire. The northern wind was biting cold and he had to grab the spire to not fly away. From down on the ground he heard a man shout something up to him, but he didn't understand.

His look was directed on the southern horizon, eagerly waiting. Today was the day, after more than two years his sister would return from the South. She would visit them together with her husband, Lord Tyrion Lannister.

While waiting for the first flags to appear at the horizon, Bran remembered how it had been almost three years ago.

First his father and mother had acted strangely, he might have been only six but he had noticed it. He and his siblings had heard them arguing. His mother had had puffy eyes, like she had cried. His father had retreated to the Godswood, hiding from them all. Nobody had known what happened, not Robb, Jon, Theon or Sansa. Arya had asked around but nobody had known anything. Only Old Nan had an explanation, that white walkers had risen and would march to the Wall. It had scared him, as much as Rickon had been scared. Robb had said that it was just a story, but they all had spent much time together, waiting for an explanation.

A few days later his parents had requested Sansa's presence. She had been nervous and only with small steps she had gone to their father's solar. Bran and the others, even Theon, had waited in the hall, hoping everything would be all right. Sansa however hadn't returned. Later when Robb had gone searching for her he had come back with the news that she had locked herself in her room. He had heard sobs from the other side of the door, and hammered on it, but Sansa hadn't let him in.

Bran and his siblings hadn't a clue what was with Sansa until later. In the evening their mother had come to them. She sat in her chair with them at the table, folding her hands in front of her. She had looked exhausted, sad and even angry, not like always when she was angry with him for climbing, when she smiled just a moment after schooling him. Her blue eye had been hard, harder than Bran had ever seen them. She just had sat there for a while, mustering Robb, Arya, Rickon and him carefully. It had seemed as though she hadn't even minded Jon's and Theon's presence.

Bran would remember what had followed his entire life. After his mother had taken a long breath she had carefully, and with a stoic voice, explained to them that Sansa would leave. She would have to marry Tyrion Lannister, the new Lord of Casterly Rock, known as the Imp.

Bran hadn't been able to understand, and still couldn't, why Sansa should have had to marry the ugliest man in the seven Kingdoms. Even then he had known the stories about him, that he was a dwarf and a vicious creature out of the nightmares. Sansa on the other hand had been the one of his siblings loving the stories about knights and princesses most.

Bran himself wanted to be a knight someday, like the one out of stories, having adventures against black knights and rescuing the damsel in distress. Lord Tyrion might be the richest and one of the most powerful Lords of the Seven Kingdoms, last in a long line of great Lords, but still. He had been rumoured to be a vile man, the sort you didn't marry your daughter to. Now Bran thought he understood his father's decision. He had always assured him it would be the best thing, the right thing. Sometimes you had to do things you don't like, for the realm.

Back then he hadn't understood, but his brothers had. Robb had spoken against it. He had been as mad as hells. Bran had never seen him like that, so angry. Maybe it had been because he had been the first to hear Sansa's sobs through the door.

Eventually Jon had calmed him down, since Mother had not been able to do so. Robb had left the table, hands formed to fists, muttering something under his breath. Jon had followed him.

Bran had looked around, Arya and Rickon had been as silent as he had been and Theon had had a strange, maybe disappointed expression on his face before he followed Robb and Jon.

During the next days none of them had seen Sansa, she had hid herself in her chambers. He had tried to visit her on occasions but her door had always been locked. He had heard sobs and cries from the other side. It had been then when he had understood Robb's anger.

A loud noise from below forced Bran out of his mind for a moment. Looking down he spotted a cart with a broken axle. The men scurried around it, and Bran thought they looked like ants from his high stand. Turning back to the horizon he buried himself back again in his memories.

He remembered that a week or so after the reveal there had been a big turmoil in the castle. From the other side of his door and from the window he had heard horses neighing and men shouting. Nobody had ever told him what had happened that night. But his father had been furious. It had been the first and till now only time he had seen him so angry. Bran had asked around but had never gotten an answer.

Then the day of Sansa's departure had arrived. She and father had taken leave from them in the yard. His father had prepared a large group of men, even a carriage for Sansa.

It had been very sad, Sansa had hugged all of them, very long, as if it would delay her leave. She had even hugged Jon. But it hadn't helped, father had guided her to the carriage, his arm on her shoulder. Bran remembered the sad expression on his face, but he had kept guiding Sansa in the carriage. She had gripped his arm, had pled, but it had been futile.

Bran had cried, like Rickon had, he hadn't cared what the others might have thought. Sansa had looked so lost, pale and with tears streaming down her cheeks. Bran had felt strange, he had felt like his parents had betrayed his sister, sending her in the seven hells alone, away from her family.

After they had left his mother had gestured them all to her and explained that Sansa had to follow her duty, like everybody else. She hadn't sounded convincing, her own grief had spoken more than all her words could have done.

It had taken more than three month for father to return from the Westerlands. They only heard that the wedding had gone by without incident. Father had told them that everything had been all right, and that Sansa had been and would be fine.

"The Imp is a better man than others would have you believe" he had said.

They had received ravens from Sansa from time to time. The letters had never been long but she had sounded happy. Bran had hoped she was.

When he let his gaze wander over the horizon again, he could finally see what he had waited so long for.

A red spot appeared on the horizon, and made Bran's heart jump. She was there, finally she was there. Slowly the red point turned into a long slow streak of red, snaking along the road north to Winterfell. It appeared it would never end, it looked like they had brought hundreds, no, thousands of people with them.

The mass turned slowly into horses, and men, and carriages, all in red. Bran was able to see knights and flag bearers and all kind of men, all marching in a line with the red and golden lion above them. At the end of the group were at least twenty enormous carriages, covered with gold, sparkling in the northern sun.

Bran already wanted to climb down, when he saw more. The group was followed by a little army of brown carts and people, in disorder, following the neatly marching group of red.

Not wasting a second thought on them, surely Sansa would explain who they were, he climbed down the tower, jumping the last few feet down and unrolling on the wall. Not bothering the guards he jumped onto the battlements and leaped from one to the other in a rapid succession.

After he reached the spot where he could reach the roof of the stables, he jumped over and ran to the slope to slide to the ground. Bran was panting, not so much from exertion, rather from excitement.

On the ground he hurried to his mother, shouting: "She is here, she is here!" to everybody on his way.

He found his mother together with Septa Mordane near the Sept, she had seen him from far and didn't look very happy to see him with his clothes torn open.

"She is here!" Bran exhaled cheerfully when he reached her, jumping up and down. But his mother's gaze fell on his trousers. Looking down he noticed blood, most likely from his hand on them.

"You were climbing again." She stated sternly, gesturing the Septa to leave.

"Yes." Bran looked down, caught disobeying her orders again. "But Sansa is here, I saw them." He added excitedly again, looking up to his mother.

Suddenly her face changed, it seemed she had forgotten what to say, just staring into the open. It took her a moment to compose herself.

"Are they?" she sounded different now, Bran was sure she just tried to hide her own anxiousness. "Go find your siblings, tell them to meet in the yard." She gestured him away with a smile. Bran had already turned and was half way to the yard when she added: "And change your clothes!"

Bran had changed and gathered his siblings, together with Theon. They all had been as excited as he, finally Sansa would come back home. This news had brought a smile on everybody's face.

But now, after all had lined up in the yard they were nervous. How will she be after two years? They all stood in order of their birth, only Jon and Theon behind them. The place of Sansa between Robb and Arya had been left open. The entire castle had come, from the sides, windows, and walls they gazed upon the large gate house, waiting curiously.

Bran looked to his parents. His father had a stern expression, but Bran was old enough to see that he was nervous. His mother didn't hide her feelings, she was tense and played nervously with her hands. His brothers and sister weren't better, like him they were tense, impatient. Where were they?

Then there were the horns. Looking forward he marvelled the spectacle. First a line of mounted knights came through the large and high gates of Winterfell. Always two together, holding flags with the crest of House Lannister. They were coated in crimson red, fine armours under their cloaks.

Bran could only gape, he had never seen so many knights in armours like these. They looked like the one out of the stories. One after another they lined up on the wall to their left, their heads high. One of them dismounted his horse and took off his helmet.

It was a young man with long golden hair. He stepped forward and briefly Bran thought that it might be Lord Tyrion. But Lord Tyrion was an Imp, a dwarf, where this one was at least as tall as Robb.

Bran's attention was driven away from the man to the gate where now more men marched in, soldiers in red armours who lined up beside the knights. Bran asked himself where Lord Tyrion was. His father had always told him a Lord should ride in front of his men, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The men were followed by a carriage, Bran noticed that that couldn't have been all, because he had seen much more.

The carriage was drawn by six large horses and surrounded by servants in red who walked besides. Bran had never seen such a carriage, it was enormous. It looked like a little house on ten large oak wheels. Painted red and covered in gold together with large windows of lead glass, it looked more expensive than anything Bran had ever believed to exist.

Bran glanced at his parents again, his father's face was unreadable but his mother now looked a bit confused.

After the carriage came to a stop the servants started to hurry around it like bees around a beehive. They brought a little staircase for in front of the door, other held the horses and two others lined up left and right of the door. Glancing to his left Bran could see that Robb looked like he had enough of this and wanted to step forward when the door was finally opened.

Out of the shadow of the carriage a small man appeared. He wasn't even as tall as Rickon. Mustering him while he waddled over the steps, Bran saw his stubby legs and a jutting forehead. He was deformed, stunned and had white blond hair. His wardrobe couldn't hide how ugly he was. And Sansa, who had always wanted a handsome knight to marry her, was now married to him. Bran could see the shock on Robb's face, his mother was now better in hiding but still. Arya seemed less shocked, more curious, so Rickon was too. Bran was indecisive about him, yes he was ugly, but on the other hand he smiled. Bran thought that he looked very kind, he also wasn't dirty or dishevelled like he had imagined the Imp. Apart from this his deformations he looked very normal, like a Lord.

Instead of stepping to the ground he stayed on one of the step and held up his hand, looking in the carriage.

A hand and then an arm appeared out of the dark of the carriage, the long pale finger closing around his. And then Sansa came out, wearing a long blue dress, her long auburn hair open and flying in the wind she stepped to the ground.

Bran felt the sudden urge to run towards her, welcoming her, his legs tingled and he jumped from one foot to the other. Sansa looked good, she looked even more like their mother now, but taller. Her gown shimmered in the sun while she tried to control her hair. She let her gaze wander above them and a big smile appeared on her face. Quickly and very audibly, yet gracefully, she nearly ran towards them. Bran wondered how she could walk so gracefully, rather how she could walk at all considering all the gold she was draped with. He could see rings, necklaces, and a golden hairnet with big red stones in it, not to mention earrings with sparkling stones or the gold ornaments of her gown. She appeared to shine like a sun in the blue sky while all her jewellery clinked with every step.

Her little husband stayed in the background while she swung her arms around mother, embracing her before she continued with father. Now all formalities were forgotten, first Rickon, then all of them stormed towards Sansa, hugging her. She lowered herself to kiss him on his cheek, also Rickon. Robb lifted her from the ground in a fluid motion when he embraced her. They were laughing, smiling. Their sister was back.

Sansa looked so happy, Bran saw tears in her eyes while she hugged everyone a second time. Then Jon appeared in a gap between Robb and him, stepping back he and Robb made room. Jon looked uncertain what to do, but Sansa smiled warmly at him, gestured with her arms that he should come forward, and embraced him too.

"How are you Sansa?" Their mother finally broke the scene of laughing, hugging and smiling, and laid her hand on Sansa's shoulder.

"Yes, tell us what you have done for so long?" Bran asked her excited to know.

"How is Casterly Rock? Do there really live Seadragons?" Rickon followed with his question, asking about one of Old Nan's stories.

"Are you well?"

"How is your marriage?"

"Is he really an imp?"

Questions bombarded Sansa, who gazed around, smiling but not able to answer one because it followed more and more. Rickon was tugging at her gown, wanting to have his questions answered first. Bran followed his example but Arya screwed herself in. Sansa started to laugh and moved her hands around.

"Enough of that, now. Leave her some space." Father intervened, smiling as he guided them away from Sansa in a line before taking Rickon and lifting him from her coat-tail. Robb and Jon also stepped back, grinning at their overwhelmed sister.

"How are you?" Their mother repeated her question, more firmly, lying her arm round Sansa. Sansa gazed in the round, meeting him and Rickon with her eyes, they looked eagerly up to her.

"I am fine, really fine." Sansa stated, smiling even brighter. "And concerning my husband…" She looked around, searching before turning her head to find Lord Tyrion standing offside.

He hadn't involved himself in their reunion, for Bran it seemed he had stood there by the carriage without moving, his hands folded on his back. Sansa eagerly waved him nearer.

Carefully he approached them, like a man would approach a pack of wolves. It seemed he had been too slow for Sansa because she paced to him and dragged him into their midst.

"May I present you, my Lord-Husband." Sansa declared, chuckling briefly, her hands rested on his shoulders. "Tyrion"

"My Lord." The Imp had a very deep voice, it sounded strange for a man of his height. He bowed to Bran's father and offered him his hand.

"Lord Tyrion, good to see you again." It looked nearly comical how Lord Eddard Stark shook the hand of a man not half his seize. "I see you have taken good care of my daughter."

"You sound like you had doubted me, my Lord." If it had supposed to sound like an accusation the grin on the man's face gave its frivolous meaning away. Then Bran witnessed how Sansa nudged him slightly, with a half stern tone she said:

"You said you would be nice." Her husband smiled up at her and turned towards Bran's father again.

"Apologies, my Lord, I hadn't planned to offend you." He said nonchalantly before turning to Lady Catelyn, still grinning. "My Lady." He bowed deeply. "Now I know where Sansa got her beauty from." Bran's mother mustered him critically, Bran wasn't sure why she had. Lord Tyrion appeared to be nice.

"You must be Robb" The husband of his sister turned towards his brother. "Finally I meet you, I heard awful rumours of you horribly mistreating your sister." He said, Robb looked totally confused and dumbfounded, gazing from him to an innocently smiling Sansa "I heard you once threw her in a pond. Or once you told her there would be snakes living in the walls, even if it only was the water to heat the castle."

"You mock me" Robb exhaled taken aback. Bran first had been confused to but now he chuckled, his brother and sisters did too.

"Am I not allowed to?" Lord Tyrion offered him his hand, Robb took it smiling lightly, but his face was sour for being mocked by the man.

"Arya I suppose." Lord Tyrion walked onwards, to greet everybody. "What shall it be? A kiss on the hand? Or better a hug?" He raised his eyebrows. Arya smirked and took his hand to shake it.

"Do you want a kiss on it?" She asked cheeky, turning his hand

"Arya!" Lady Catelyn yelled but the Imp seemed to enjoy the banter, a barking laugh escaped him.

"Maybe I want one" He grinned at Arya but both released each other's hand. Now it was Bran's turn. Hoping he would have a good reply if he would mock him too. Bran had laughed at Robb and Arya, but now he didn't want to become the laughingstock.

"Bran" A hand reached in his direction and he took it. "Firm grip, already taller than me, surely a future knight aren't you?"

"Yes my Lord, I hope." Bran replied, a bit taken aback by him, he was nice.

"Tyrion." He said and turned to all. "You all can call me Tyrion if you want." He gripped Bran's hand tighter and pulled Bran towards him. "Don't be shy, I was said my brother had a firm grip and was tall at your age too. Those are good signs for a knight. Maybe I can introduce you both some time." Ser Jaime Lannister was one of the most famous knights in the seven Kingdoms, of course Bran wanted to meet him. The prospect brought a bright smile on his face. Tyrion patted him on his back before turning to Rickon.

Rickon was a bit reserved towards him, maybe because of his look but he took the offered hand.

Finished with Rickon Tyrion gazed around, turning back and forth like he searched something.

"Didn't I forget a brother?" He asked towards Sansa, although it sounded more rhetorical.

Jon who had waited in the background after Tyrion had arrived stepped forward, looking uncomfortable.

"Jon then?" once again a hand was offered and shaken.

It looked like Theon wanted to be next but was ignored. He hadn't even been included in the welcoming of Sansa, she had only nodded towards him. The Lord instead turned to Bran's father again.

"I thank for your hospitality, my Lord." Bran suddenly noticed how bustling it was around him. Dozens of servants were carrying chests from carts.

"You are welcome. The steward will lead your men to your chambers." His father turned. "Poole, show Lord Tyrion's men his chambers." He then turned again to his son-in-law.

"There will be a feast later." Bran's mother said, gesturing to the hall.

-##-

Later in the evening there indeed was a feast. After Sansa and Tyrion had settled down and eaten, they had spent the short rest of the day sleeping. It seemed the journey had been really exhausting for them, but in the evening they of course visited the feast to their honour.

It was great. Bran loved it, they sat all together at the high table. Tyrion joked around and told stories. Rickon asked again about Seadragons and was disappointed because Tyrion told them, and Sansa confirmed, there didn't live Seadragons in the caves under the Rock. Apparently stone eating and gold shitting Glarps weren't the source of the Lannister wealth either.

They laughed much, and a bard Sansa had brought played songs about the North and the Westerlands. But Bran thought when he sat at the table that Sansa was a bit bossy to the servants, always ordering them around. His mother observed that with disapproval in her eyes, but didn't say a word.

After the sun was down and the feast drew to an end Sansa told that she had been in King's Landing for prince Joffrey's last Nameday. Bran wanted to hear the story but she said she'd tell him tomorrow. Bran then had to witness a kiss between his sister and her husband, it looked like one wanted to eat the other.

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**Happy bride indeed (sorry for that) but just so easy everything couldn't work out**

**Just as a remember it's 298 AL**

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	3. Arya

**Andrich, my beta, thousands thanks to him for doing this**

**You all should pray for him to the old and the new gods**

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Arya sat in her chair at the table in the great hall, picking with her fork in her breakfast. She was bored and impatient. Sansa was babbling incessantly, telling of her great new life. Father and mother had excused themselves some time ago, saying they had to attend duties, and left them at the table. Jon, Robb, Bran Sansa and her Imp together with her and Theon.

After the feast last night everything had gone very fast, and they had been sent to bed. Arya had been tired, though not from the feast but from her training. She had trained with a wooden stick in the Godswood. She wanted to be able to fight, and when her mother wouldn't let her she began to teach herself. In the morning Sansa had given them her gifts, which she had kept a secret until then.

Arya had gaped by the six Dornish horses Sansa had presented them, even one for Jon and Theon. They were smaller than the northern horses, but the Dornishmen who had taken care of them promised that no horse would be faster or more agile. They were noble animals indeed, and Arya couldn't wait to ride her mare this afternoon.

But only after breakfast would she be allowed to ride. Jon had said it would be a great opportunity to talk with Sansa and get to know her husband. She had to sit through all of it, he said, because their parents thought it would be a good idea too.

They sat in the great hall, all except Rickon who was still asleep, not even aware of his new horse. But of course Arya had to be there, in the great hall, with Sansa's bard playing in the background.

They all were happy that Sansa was back. Her husband on the other side evoked mixed feelings. They knew now that the people's talk about him was mostly wrong, but still at least her older brothers were wary. Even if he had just sat there harmlessly during the entire morning, letting Sansa speak.

Robb was suspicious about Sansa's husband because he didn't know what to make out of him. He observed them both very carefully, he had done so during the entire morning and the last evening.

Jon seemed a bit less worried about the little man. The Imp had been nice to him and Jon had appreciated that. Sansa had been nice too, something that confused Arya beyond imagination. She hadn't called him bastard yet or ignored him, like she had done so often before. She treated him equally to Robb now.

Bran on the other hand was just happy that Sansa was back and accepted the man at her side without complaint. The promise of introducing him to Jaime Lannister, as well as the realisation that he was in fact related to one of the greatest knights in Westeros, had put Tyrion in his good graces.

She didn't know what Rickon thought of him, but she would ask him later. Theon was a different point, first he hadn't liked the Imp, had supported Robb in his suspicious. Sansa hadn't been helpful by treating him like he hadn't been there at all, even if he was with them now, she mostly ignored him. Not that it would be different from the time before she had been wed. But because she treated Jon different but didn't treat Theon different made Theon insufferable. On the other hand the horse had calmed him down a bit and now he sat there, quietly.

Arya for her part liked the Imp, he was funny and had a sharp tongue. And it fascinated her that Sansa was so happy with him, she who had only wanted the handsome knight. But now she was happy and that alone made Tyrion likeable, somehow.

Sansa on the other hand. She was Arya's sister and she loved her but still, she annoyed Arya. She had always been girlish as well as ladyish and in Arya's opinion it had only gotten worse.

Her gown alone was a proof of that. Sansa wore a deep purple gown, made out a shimmering material together with Myrish silk. Enormous blue stones were attached to it with golden strings, her fingers were covered in golden rings, together with bracelets out of diamonds on each arm, heavy earrings and a golden necklace. Her hair was braided in a way that had made Arya nearly laugh out loud. Sansa had always wanted to be a great southern Lady or princess but this was too much in Arya's view, even for Sansa.

Her demeanour was unendurable for Arya too, she bossed the servants around like she was something better. Her tone had changed too, she was more supercilious than Arya imagined, but only to the servants. And then there was the ridiculous token of affection between her and Lord Tyrion.

The kisses and hugs and chuckling together after one whispered something in the ear of the other. It was just 'Eck!'

But now Arya became vigilant when she witnessed how Sansa urged her husband to try a sausage. Arya knew this dish and it was awful, made out of entrails and blood. It was a traditional northern sausage but nobody ate them because of the taste.

Sansa had picked a piece up and hold the fork in Tyrion's face. Arya watched keen what would happen next.

"Don't you trust me?" Sansa asked in a voice so sweet Arya's teeth ached. Sansa smiled widely and with a resigning look the Imp took it in his mouth.

His face concerted in disgust just after he had closed his mouth, it looked like he had to gag. Sansa started to chuckle, Arya and the rest weren't so modest. Arya had to laugh so hard that her belly started to hurt. The Imp looked like he had to throw up.

Sansa laid her arm around him, leaning against him and laid her head on his. But the Imp change position and guided his hand behind her head before bringing her face towards his, kissing her long and audibly. Now Arya felt like vomiting.

After he released Sansa she grimaced and stuck her tongue out with a Yuk sound, like she had tasted the sausage. But then she started to smile again, leaning back against Tyrion. It looked like she would urge for his presence, like a lovesick puppy.

Arya remembered that it hadn't been always like this. She remembered how it had been when the raven from King's Landing arrived. Bran and Rickon didn't know of this because of their age, they weren't supposed to know, but she and the other knew that father had never intended to marry Sansa to the Lannister. But then a raven from the capital had come to Winterfell and everything changed, at least that was what Jon had told her.

Sansa had cried and everything but the worst had been when she had tried to run away.

Arya had only gotten to know about that because she had been in the Godswood training with a stick when her father's men had searched it. She had hid on a tree and had seen everything, so later her brothers hadn't been able to pretend it had been not a big deal like she had done and still did with Bran and Rickon.

It had been shortly after the engagement had been broken to Sansa. A few knights had visited Winterfell on their way to the Wall, not to take the black but aiding in some struggle with wildlings. It had been the first time Sansa had left her room, curious about the men from the Reach.

One of the knights had had a squire, his head as much in those boring stories of valiant knights who saved the damsel in distress like Sansa. He had been twelve back then, like Sansa, and somehow they had managed to meet. Maybe while Sansa had been in the Sept to prey, she had often prayed these times.

Whatsoever as far as Arya knew he had declared himself ready to save her sister from this oh-so cruel faith of marrying a dwarf. Arya had no idea what the boy had thought would happen, he most likely had just wanted to be such a valiant knight like Aemon the Dragonknight.

One evening Septa Mordane had noticed Sansa's absence and had alerted their mother and father. Sansa and her squire had just rode away in the night, nobody had noticed them.

Arya remembered how her father had looked like this day. Arya had left the Godswood curious why it had been searched. Her father had gathered his men in the yard, armoured and mailed. Maester Luwin once had told her and her siblings of the old Kings in the North, the Kings of Winter, that they had been men to fear. Her father, the smiling one, the stern but gentle looking Eddard Stark had resembled one of them that evening.

He had ridden out with his men to hunt the squire down and bring Sansa back. Arya had hid in the yard and had witnessed when they came back not an hour later. The squire fettered on a horse between them and Sansa sitting behind their father.

The stupid squire had only used a single horse for Sansa and him, Arya would have been able to come up with a better plan than him. Arya's father and his men had caught them on the road straight to the South, riding as if nothing would be. How stupid they had been.

Arya still wasn't sure how to appraise Sansa's try to escape what she had seen as horrible punishment, but in Arya's opinion she could have used her brain a bit more to figure out what consequences would be there.

The squire had gotten lucky, instead of taking his head, her father had put mercy before justice. The squire had tried to steal his daughter away, a crime worthy of an execution in the North and the South, by the old and the new Gods, but he had sent him to the Wall.

Sansa of course had just cared for herself, had cried even more but in the end she had been on her way south.

Looking up Arya carefully observed her sister and her 'godly' punishment. It looked like she was happy, joking around with him, and he let her do so without a slightest complaint. It looked like he would adore her and Sansa naturally liked it to be adored, maybe even loved.

"You wanted to tell us of your journey to King's Landing." Bran suddenly interrupted the conversations which had started after the laughing had ceased. He looked up at Sansa with big eyes. Arya sighed, not another boring story, big deal they had been in King's Landing before they had travelled to Winterfell. This would just keep her longer away from her ride. She crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward, steeling herself.

"Fine." Sansa said, taking a sip of her cup and smiled towards Bran. "We were visiting the capital because of Prince Joffrey's twelfth Nameday. We thought we should pay them a visit." Sansa said a bit dreamily, reaching out for the hand of her husband who kept quiet but refilled his cup with ale. "It was also a very great opportunity for me to meet the rest of his family."

Robb looked as bored as Arya was, and she intended to start a conversation with Robb when Sansa snapped at him.

"They are your family too, now." Robb stopped what he was trying to do and focussed back. Arya was watching very carefully, Sansa had never been so direct to Robb. Septa Mordane had always taught them to be humble and reserved, something Arya might have failed but Sansa never. The new Sansa however seemed to have lost some of her education, especially when she was ignored.

"Tell more, how was it?" Bran demanded, looking like he wanted to jump up.

"Patience, I will come to that." Sansa sounded terrifying like their mother while she was smiling at Bran. "When we finally reached King's Landing the Queen personally welcomed us, together with her children and Ser Jaime. She is really nice, a real Queen you know?" Arya saw how Tyrion blew some air out of his lungs in an unbelieving gesture but Sansa ignored it and continued. "The city is huge, even bigger than Lannisport, but smells much more. I think the capital is ugly."

"How was Ser Jaime? Is he really such a great knight? And the prince?" It seemed Bran would never stop.

"Ser Jaime is really a great knight Bran, a sworn sword of the King in a white armour, a great knight indeed."

"And a Kingslayer." Theon interjected cheekily, receiving a disapproving glare from Sansa, she continued turning more to Bran.

"And for the prince? I personally think Prince Joffrey is spoiled, but so ever. Princess Myrcella is really nice, like Prince Tommen. I like both of them. We had spent the most time together with Cersei. Yes, I am allowed to call the Queen by her name." Sansa sounded so excited and Arya wished to be at another place, preferably with her mare. "I also met aunt Lysa together with her husband the Hand Lord Arryn and her son Robin. Unfortunately she is a very strange person, only attached to Robin, who is even more spoiled than the Prince. There are rumours she still feeds him herself." Sansa leaned forward to Bran. Arya instead watched Tyrion who clearly had problems not to add something nasty to her story.

"Did you also meet the King?" Bran asked, Sansa leaned back and her face showed disgust.

"Yes at the tournament, but..."

"But what?" Now Robb was interested too.

"King Robert had drunken much wine and then he yelled at the competitors and then" Sansa looked really nauseated "he pissed himself in front of everybody." Sansa brought her hands to her forehead and averted her gaze. She took an audible breath before continuing. "I then left with Cersei. She disapproved of his behaviour and I myself had a very unpleasant encounter with the Master of Coins."

Lord Tyrion looked a bit vengeful now, but only for a minute.

"It wasn't like I had imagined." Sansa continued after a moment. "But I had a nice day with Cersei, she had told me how to deal with Lord Baelish and I was grateful for that. We talked about how it is to be a Lady while sewing with Myrcella. It was great."

Arya found it fascinating how the Imp had acted through Sansa's last statement, worry, discomfort, vengeance and amusement had fought in his face for dominance but he had never said a word. His struggle not to be was really something to distract Arya from this story.

Who cared that the King was a drunkard, or that Sansa could call the Queen by her name, big deal. Couldn't they just finish all of this so she could ride? But by a quick glance Arya saw that Bran looked disappointed, but apparently Sansa had said something else.

"At the tournament was also a man from across the Narrow Sea with a burning sword, Thoros of Myr." She whispered loud to Bran, making him looking interested again. "There is a song about him, do you want to hear it?"

'Please no' Arya groaned in her head, no song, even if a man with a burning sword sounded thrilling. And another groan escaped her, this one audible because Bran nodded.

Sansa turned to the bard who had played during the breakfast. Arya suddenly noticed that it wasn't the same like last night at the feast. The one last night had worn yellow, pretty stupid and this one was covered in red and orange, he also had a dark skin colour, like the dornish.

"Oh" Sansa sighted, "He can't sing it best. Leave us and send the blue bard." Sansa ordered with a gesture.

"The blue bard?" Robb asked Sansa, looking puzzled. "The bard from yesterday?"

"No, the one yesterday was the yellow bard. I can differentiate them best by their colours." Sansa sounded as if it would be clear.

"How many bards do you have?" Jon asked, putting his cup down.

"Six" Sansa said casually, gazing at Robb and Jon who looked stunned. Arya herself was taken aback, why did she need six bards? They all looked at Tyrion who just shrugged, pretending that the bottom of his cup was more interesting. So they turned back to Sansa.

"Why do you have six bards?" Robb asked Arya's question first, gazing unbelieving at their sister.

"You know" Sansa started, finally looking a bit uncomfortable, folding her hand under the table, turning slightly left and right in her chair. "During the first weeks I told Tyrion how much I love songs and that we never had a bard in Winterfell. So he suggested I should hire one for me to sing." Sansa glanced over to Tyrion whose gaze was fixed at Sansa, with a smile on his lips. "Together with Genna I auditioned many bards, but in the end I couldn't decide. You know one was better with the flute the other had a better voice and so on. In the end Tyrion suggested I should just hire all I want, so I did."

"Who am I to deny her what she wants?" Tyrion defended himself against an unbelieving look from Jon and a suspicious from Robb. "Whatever she wants is hers." He added turning completely to Sansa, stroking her hand. Sansa once again had to give an example how much she loved him by kissing him again, long and with much slurping.

'Ugh!' Arya could only think. Robb and Jon looked away, equally repelled by the sight.

The blue bard appeared quick and started his song, Arya was now not only bored and tense to ride, her ears were also being ravished by the man's voice.

Luckily, during the second ear-piercing stanza, a sound from the end of the hall announced that Rickon finally arrived and the bard stopped his torture.

Rickon still looked sleepy when he walked over to the table and climbed on his chair besides Arya.

"Morning, how are you?" Sansa asked him in her all too sweet voice. Arya felt her ears would start to bleed soon.

"Good how are you? Are you still ill?" Rickon asked out of nowhere, his tone showed concern. Ill? Arya asked herself, she was puzzled by his question, like the rest. Sansa rigour at their youngest brother in utterly confusion.

"What do you mean with ill?" She asked him, leaning towards him and reached out her hand to pet his hand. "I am not ill why would you think I am ill?"

"Because when I went out for a cup of water tonight I heard you." Rickon explained, sounding a bit confused himself.

"Maybe it was just a dream, what have you heard?" Sansa offered an explanation for him but Rickon was certain. He shook his head violently.

"No I heard you. I passed your door and I heard you, you sounded like you suffered an ill stomach." Rickon stated firm, looking up to Sansa. He then pointed to Tyrion. "You called him for help, while you were groaning and all."

Suddenly Jon choked on his drink and Arya witnessed how Sansa's face concerted in shock. She turned scarlet red before she leaned back, and averted her eyes, exhaling an 'Oh'.

Tyrion looked dumbfounded as well. Arya felt a tension building up in the hall, suddenly it was interesting. She gazed around, Jon was still struggling with his drink, coughing. Bran was hitting him on his back for help. Robb had his gaze fixed on Sansa's husband. Arya saw how his knuckles turned white by his firm grip around his cup, she feared he might break him. Theon was smirking a very impertinent smirk towards Sansa who still struggled to say something.

She had no idea what was going on, had Rickon said something? She had no idea what was wrong, nor why they acted so strange. If Sansa had stomach problems what was the problem? Rickon was still looking expecting at Sansa, demanding an answer.

Arya couldn't say she didn't found her sisters sudden struggle very amusing. But Robb's nearly furious glare towards Sansa's husband looked dangerous, something was up.

"I am fine Rickon." Sansa said feebly, still averting her eyes. "It was nothing really."

"But I heard it?" Rickon probed, like he wanted a confirmation of his own sanity.

"Yes, yes. I remember it was nothing." Sansa nodded quickly up and down. Seemingly happy Rickon turned to his breakfast, not noticing the oppressive silence in the room.

Jon was staring at Sansa and Tyrion, his mouth wide open. Robb still looked like he wanted to jump up. Simultaneously they looked a bit uncomfortable in their shock. Theon was just continuing to smirk. Sansa and Tyrion, averted their gazes, the Imp was now holding Sansa's hand and Arya could see her firm grip. She had still no clue neither had the puzzled looking Bran. Only Rickon was unaware and started to eat audibly.

After a few more moments Jon's and Robb's behaviour changed. Now they looked embarrassed, as if they just realized something but still only Rickon was to hear.

"Didn't you find a story you wanted to tell your sister about?" Tyrion freed them out of the silence by asking Sansa, gesturing towards Arya.

"Oh yes, you are right." Sansa looked more than happy to change the subject and turned to Arya. Arya was curious now, she had like she had said, no likings for stories, so, what wanted Sansa tell her? Hopefully not such a stupid story about knights. And if she prayed to the old and new Gods it might be short so she could go riding.

Arya looked up, waiting for Sansa. She tried to focus her thought away from her mare for a moment.

"You know I love stories." Sansa started turning to Arya. "Casterly Rock has a gigantic library. Which is expanding daily since Tyrion is Lord." Sansa glanced back at him before turning to Arya again. "But the stories are limited so Tyrion sent out men across the Narrow Sea, some even to Asshai to find more stories for me, sagas, tales and fairy-tale as much as they can find. They write them down and send them back for me." Sansa once again smiled back at the Imp.

Arya found it incredible, it seemed Sansa would really get everything she wanted, no matter how expensive. She thought back to the horses and wanted to ride hers now again.

"One of the stories was about a tribe of warrior women in the north east of Essos." Sansa continued. "I brought it with me, I am sure you will love it." Warrior women really sounded interesting. Arya could see herself as one of them.

"Stories about the Ironborn under them?" Theon asked grinning. "My people are even known beyond the Narrow Sea."

"Yes actually." Sansa turned to him with raised eyebrows. "There is the story of two friends. One of them used a magic potion to get strength beyond nature, the other didn't need it because he fell in a cauldron as a child and had this power for life. They constantly sink a ship with Ironborn when they travel over the Sea. The Ironborn are always afraid of them and once the captain sunk his own ship out of fear from them. You meant those kinds of stories?" Sansa stated to chuckle at Theon's dumb face and Arya could not help but to join her. Rickon as even so amused hat his milk came out of his nose.

Arya had to say some of Sansa's new traits were very amusing, and not very ladylike.

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	4. Ned

**Sadly (for me, not for him - hope he has a great time) my beta is on vacation**

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Ned rose from his seat in the solar and walked to the door. He had done his duty for today and it was time to speak with Sansa. He hadn't had a chance to speak with her detailed yesterday and this morning it had all been about her and her siblings and the horses. They were really noble and surely expensive gifts.

He was glad that she was back, it had felt wrong living in Winterfell without her. After all she was a child of the North. But more importantly for him was that she seemed to be happy, it lifted his heart to see her like this. He had felt so long the pain and guilt of giving her to the Lannister but it seemed it had played out surprisingly well.

While he was wandering the halls of his castle the memories of how it all had happened came back to him. It had been his lowest moment as a parent back then, more than two years ago.

It all had started with the letter from Robert. Ned's friend, no King, ordered him to marry Sansa, his very own daughter, to Tyrion Lannister, the new Lord of Casterly Rock. Jon Arryn had sent a raven too, assuring Ned it had been for the good of the realm. Everything had been ready he had just to deliver Sansa to Casterly Rock.

Ned had thought both, his friend and his mentor, had gone mad. His daughter married to a Lannister and it was all for the realm's sake? He had remembered how Jaime Lannister had sat on the Iron Throne, the mad King's blood on his white armour. He had remembered the sacked city, the doing of Tywin Lannister and even worse. Before his eyes he had seen the Targaryen children, covered in red cloaks. He had heard of Tyrion Lannister all the dark rumours about him. The Imp they had called him. And then Robert had ordered him to give his daughter, his little girl to this family.

It had pained him but Robert was his King and you don't choose which orders you follow. It had been his duty and he had obliged.

Cat had been furious when he had told her. First she had thought he would have experimented with a new kind of humour but then he had shown her the letters and she had gone pale.

'You can't give our baby to them! Not to him!' She had said, yelled at him, it had been the first time she had raised her voice towards him. Not even when he had brought Jon to her, she had never screamed.

But there had been no choice, honour and duty had demanded it.

The kids had known that something had been up, they had asked question but the answer never came.

He and Cat had delayed the revelation to Sansa for days. First they had to accept it. It had been hard, they had been arguing, praying, in a desperate attempt Cat had even suggested he should hide Sansa.

There was a pang in his heart when he had sent for her to reveal it to her. Cat and he had decided to speak with her alone, without the eyes of the others on them.

Sansa had been nervous when she had stepped in the room and Cat had asked her to sit down beside her on the couch. She had her arm around Sansa, a gesture that had made her even more uneasy.

Ned had needed time to gather enough strength to tell her that she would have to marry. First she had been enthusiastic. She had asked questions, if it would be a handsome knight or Lord. She had smiled wide had taken her mother's hands. It was great to see her so but it had made the following only more crushing.

When he had revealed her who it had been she had to marry, the infamous Imp of Casterly Rock, the ugliest man of the seven Kingdoms, she had gone silent. First she hadn't believed him, she had thought it had been a jest. But after Cat had assured her it had been the truth she had paled, like her mother.

First Sansa had protested, cried, but Ned had to explain her that there had been no choice. It had pained him so much to see her like this. She had ran out of the room, her hands covering her face and sobs escaping her.

'Robert's orders, Robert's orders' he had repeated to himself in his head over and over again.

He had wanted to follow her, maybe even calming her, explaining it to her but Cat had stopped him. In her opinion she should have composed herself before they spoke again.

Cat had been strange that day, she had left him alone to talk to the children. He had felt this would only got worse and it had had.

The next day he had gone to Sansa again, explaining it to her. But she had begged, even threatened him to join the Faith, rather than marrying the Imp. But this choice hadn't been hers. She was a Stark, a Lady and it had been her duty like it had been his to follow Robert's will. She had said she would hate him. She had locked herself in her room, hadn't even prayed in the Godswood, as if the North would be to blame.

And then there had been the ugly business with the squire. When he and Jory had caught them Sansa's face, her gaze had hurt him deeper than he had imagined possible. He hadn't taken the squires head, the boy was twelve, too young to die for foolishness.

But he hadn't lose track of Sansa since then.

The day to the departure had arrived quickly, he had extra organized a carriage for Sansa so she wouldn't have to ride. He also had gathered Lords from the North together with a great amount of men for an escort. If she had to be married to a Lannister than this man should at least see what she was.

Sansa had pleaded again, had tried to delay the whole affair but nothing had helped. Once again his heart had gotten a crack by guiding her in the carriage. Cat hadn't hugged him goodbye, all had been very silent, depressed.

Later in the carriage he had tried to explain it to Sansa again, how it had been her duty. She had promised to try, more he couldn't have asked for.

When they had arrived at Lannisport Ned had thought it would might work. Sansa had been fascinated by the city in the shadow of the Rock. The Lannister had also done it with style. Red and grey flags had flew over the city walls and everything had been bedizened.

A group of knights led by Ser Kevan Lord Tywin's younger brother had welcomed them at the city gates. Ned had known the man only briefly back then, but there had never been anything bad to say about him except that he had always followed his brother's orders.

He had offered him his hand and Ned had taken it. He had been very kind to Sansa too, had told her what a good man his nephew would be and had lifted her spirit.

When the knights had escorted them to the Lion's Mouth the great gate to Casterly Rock and when Sansa had seen all the people there to greet them Ned had hoped it would be good, she had even smiled a bit.

But then she had seen him.

Lord Tyrion, the deformed dwarf had awaited her in the front line. First he had looked like a child to Ned until he had come nearer. Ned had gone to him first. He had not been sure what to make out of him. On the journey they had stopped by some Lords of the Westerlands who had been delighted to host their future Lady. They all had told him Lord Tyrion would be like his father. The thought alone had frightened Ned.

But the little man in front of him had been different, he had kindly approached Sansa offering his hand and had complimented her exhaustively. But she hardly had been able to hold her tears. She had excused herself quickly, the aunt of Lord Tyrion an enormous woman had taken care of Sansa, washing away all protest of Ned's men.

Ned had been alone with the young Lord then. He had looked after Sansa and the Lord's face was pained. He had looked like Ned had felt.

'I am sorry for all that my Lord' He had said before letting Ned stand bewildered in the yard. He hadn't known what he had meant back then, now he understood. He had to follow the King's orders as Ned had to.

Sansa had hid herself in her room in Casterly Rock again, refusing all tries from her soon to be husband to talk to her. But she hadn't been alone at least. Lady Genna the aunt of Lord Tyrion and Ser Kevan's wife Lady Dorna had taken care of her. Ned had been glad, with her mother in the North Sansa had had no one else to turn to.

There hadn't been a long span until the wedding the King had commanded had happened. After only two days the castle had been ready, quicker than Ned had thought possible.

The Lannister had really outdone themselves. The castle had been covered in red silk and gold. The golden hall had been decorated with roses made out of gold leaf and red and grey flags with lion and direwolf had hung from the ceiling.

When he had walked Sansa over the thick red carpet to the hall Lannister knights in gold shining armours and bright red cloaks had had formed a guard of honour for her. Thousands of guests had arrived all to see his daughter.

All the pomp and decadence of the South had been gathered to this event. Ned and his Northerner had nearly looked shabby against all the fine cloth from the rich Westerlands.

Ned had suspected that it had been the fairy-tale wedding out of Sansa's dreams. It had looked certainly like it. But the groom hadn't been right, Lord Tyrion hadn't been the handsome knight and her face had showed that clearly.

When he had stepped in the hall with Sansa at his side it had looked very ought. On the on side his men in grey and brown and on the other the Westermen in red and gold. North and south.

Sansa had looked beautiful in her blue gown. It had been modest but perfect, but Ned had hoped she wouldn't feel inferior to the Lannister women in their lavishly gowns.

She had looked like her mother.

While he had walked her down to the Septon, tears had formed in her eyes. It had pained Ned, she hadn't been supposed to cry at her wedding, not like this. Before they had stepped to close she had tried to plea again.

But duty was duty.

The groom had worn red and gold at this day. Tyrion Lannister had stood like a King but unfortunately with the wrong height. He had waited patiently for them. Sansa had dug her fingers in Ned's arm, she had been afraid but step for step they had come closer.

Lord Tyrion had greeted her with a kind smile offering his hand to her. Sansa had pressed at her father's hand. Ned had released her and had taken a step back.

It had been one of the hardest deeds he had ever done. The father in his had told him to grab Sansa and run away, leaving all behind, but Robert was King and this had been his orders.

Duty demanded it.

Sansa had wept through the entire ceremony, Lord Tyrion had overseen it without a comment. He had looked up at her helpful, but it hadn't mattered for her.

When it had been Ned's part to take the grey maiden cloak from her shoulders, like he had put the grey cloak on Sansa's mother so many years ago she had sobbed loud. She had gripped his hand when he took the cloak his hands resting on her shoulders, had dug her finger in his and turned her head to look at him, her puffy eyes showing a last plea to stop it all.

Her look back then haunted him from then on. Not only the words 'promise me Ned' were present in his nightmares anymore but Sansa's face back then too. It had nearly broken him, and he hadn't done anything.

Lord Tyrion had gotten the red Lannister cloak from his uncle and started to gaze unsecure up to Sansa before he had tugged at her gown. He had wanted her to kneel so he would be able to put it on.

Sansa had looked back to him, her father, an unspoken question in her eyes. Ned had nodded assuring and she had knelt down so her husband could lie the cloak around her shoulders.

Ned had witnessed it and a knot had formed in his guts. Duty he had reminded him ceaselessly, duty. Sansa had been married, Robert's orders had been fulfilled.

The feast had been as decadent as the ceremony, the wine had been too sweet, the courses too elaborate. Ned had felt uncomfortable, all together with the pain in his heart. His Northerner had seemed not less uncomfortable with the Westermen.

Lord Tyrion had danced with Sansa, or had at least tried to. It had looked ungracious and rediciulous. But nobody had laughed, his men out of respect and the Westermen … he still wasn't sure out of respect or fear.

They had only danced once, maybe for the better. Ned had been next to dance with Sansa. He hadn't been much of an improvement though. Sansa had looked sad, resigning. After him the knights of the Westerlands had wanted to dance with her one after one. 'Only four month ago it would have been the best day of her life. All this handsome knights nearly fighting to dance with her' Ned had thought to himself while he had observed Sansa, she had never smiled once.

There hadn't been a bedding announced. Later Ned had come to know Lord Tyrion had forbid it. A small mercy for Sansa at this day, or perhaps his try to take control back. It hadn't mattered.

Late in the feast it had still been time, no matter what. Carefully but uncertain the young Lannister had taken Sansa by her hand and had left the hall with her. She had given her father a last pleading glance to save her, if he had could he had for sure.

Ned hadn't been able to sleep that night he had turned around in the way to soft feather bed without rest. He had wanted to jump up, grabbing ice and getting his little girl back. He had remembered her birth, her first steps and how proud she looked when she had shown him her first needlework.

But she had been married, she had become a woman. 'How bad it must be for her, not even her mother is her' He had thought.

Ned had prayed to the old gods this night so they shall protect Sansa.

He had been surprised the next morning when she had joined him for breakfast. He had intended to eat alone, in his foul mood but Sansa had shown up and had sat beside him. She had looked less sad, she had even smiled briefly at him.

She had appeared calmer. He hadn't dared to ask about the night and had been even more surprised when she had told him willingly. The marriage had stand unconsumed, Sansa had told him that her husband had said they would wait until she felt ready. Lord Tyrion had promised not to touch her or initiate anything as long as she wore a nightgown. Ned had been stunned, back then he had finally gotten a picture who this man was, a decent man.

Robert's orders had been followed and Sansa had seemed to considering her faith less dark.

Ned had sought out Lord Tyrion and had shaken his hand, before he had thanked him. Ned had seen some light for Sansa then.

He had had to leave all too soon, letting Sansa in the care of the Lannisters. He had left her hundred men as household guard but she had sent them back a year ago.

The letters that had followed had been encouraging and she seemed happy now. Or at least she acted happy.

But since she was back in Winterfell, Cat had started to take offence at some of her new behaviour.

She had told him yesterday night after the feast that she was worried about Sansa, about how she had bossed the servants around and that she might be too lavish, corrupted. Cat suspected she had gotten spoiled.

Ned had to admit that the gown and the stones she had worn yesterday were expensive enough to feed a small village to the winter. Jory had also told him that the people, this trek brown carts, who had followed the Lannisters to the castle were jeweller, dressmaker and merchants of all kind. Apparently Lord Tyrion was always in need of expensive gifts for Sansa, all the time.

Ned intended to ask her about this. And he had something else to say to her, something that had bothered him for too long.

He found Sansa in the Godswood, praying in front of the heart tree. He was glad to see she had conciliated with the old gods and the North. Ned waited patiently for her to finish, it took long. She had been gone for two years and in the south were no weirwood trees so she most likely had to catch up.

When Sansa had finished she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. It was good to see her smile. Ned walked over to her and seated himself besides her in the grass. And then she leaned against him, like she had done as a little child when he had told her stories about the old gods.

"How are you?" He asked her while laying his arm around her.

"It is good to be back here." She said low, Ned looked down and saw that her eyes were closed, she looked so peaceful.

"And how are things with your husband?" He asked carefully, while Sansa huddled up against his shoulder

"He is good man. I trust him." She said. Ned felt warm spread in him, if was a big relief to hear these words come out of her mouth.

"And he treat you well?"

"Of course he does." Sansa let a laugh escape her throat as if the question would be preposterous. "He does everything to make me happy."

"And you are?" By the question Sansa looked up to him, she mustered him a while and smiled.

"Yes I am." She exhaled before leaning against him again. "I know I wasn't very eager to marry him but now it's different." 'eager' was a clear understatement but good.

"And his family? How do they treat you?"

"I am one of them. I am their Lady." She answered dreamy. "I feel weal."

"But don't forget you are a Stark as well." He reminded her, rubbing her shoulder.

"I know, and I won't forget that. There is always a direwolf flag on the Rock to remind people of that." Ned looked down surprised, he had never considered to flag a Tully flag on Winterfell. "And Cersei always calls me fondly: 'little wolf'." Now Ned had to chuckle.

"I heard you met my old friend Robert in King's Landing, how is he?" Ned asked, remembering his friend and King.

"He is a drunkard." Sansa stated, not without disgust in her voice. "I only saw him briefly, he just greeted me and nothing further. He never looked me in the eyes."

"And Jon Arryn?" Ned asked, embarrassed for his old friend, he of course had heard of his drinking but he had never thought he would treat his daughter like this. Not after…

"I like him, but he is old and a bit slow." Sansa told him. "And then there was aunt Lysa she just gazed disapproving at me after I had an encounter with Lord Baelish."

"Baelish?" Ned asked curious, he of course knew who Petyr Baelish was but nothing more.

"Yes he starred at me and I didn't like it, but I made him stop."

"How?" He asked, not liking that the man starred at his married daughter.

"Something the Queen taught me." Sansa answered cryptic but didn't elaborate it further.

"Listen" Ned started after a moment of silence. While he enjoyed the peace he had with his daughter. "I want to ask you something."

"What is it?" Sansa gazed up at him.

"Your mother is worried about you." He tried to find the right words. "She fears you might get pampered too much by your husband. That you perhaps be 'corrupted' by all the wealth" Ned felt uncomfortable by every word and saw how Sansa's face was puzzled.

"He likes to make me happy." She said, looking over the Godswood to the castle. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No" Ned said clearly, he had the sudden notion that his question had been stupid. "There is nothing wrong with that."

Ned readjusted his position and uses the new moment of silence while Sansa's gaze wandered over the Godswood again to prepare himself for something he had delayed for too long.

"I am sorry." He stated and nearly chocked at his own words. They sounded so unreal. "If I would have been able I hadn't marry you to him. I know it doesn't matter any longer but." He took a deep breath. "You didn't want to marry him because he is what he is and..."

"It wasn't just that." Sansa interrupted him with her protest and let him puzzled this time. She hadn't changed her position but she sounded different. "I wasn't just bothered by what he is, a dwarf, that he isn't handsome. I was, yes, but it wasn't the only reason, not even the main."

"Sansa…"

"I was afraid. The people told stories about the vicious, drunken whoremonger of Casterly Rock. I had to leave my home to spend my life with a man I didn't know, you didn't know. All this rumours about him had frighten me. It sounded like a nightmare for me and nobody would be there for me. I thought I would be alone in Casterly Rock. All my dreams were suddenly shattered, I felt betrayed."

"Sansa I never…"

"I know, now. But back then." She sighed loudly. "I was to send away to a man with a reputation so bad that it could serve as a horror story. I felt helpless. And I thought you all had failed me." Ned felt bad by her words, he had failed her. He wanted to say something but he let her continue because there had been no words he could have said. "While we were traveling through the Westerlands I had calmed because all the Lords had been so nice. I started to think that all stories about him would be false. But then I saw him, the dwarf, and suddenly all stories about him had sounded so real again. I was afraid, of him, of the future, I just wanted to hide."

Ned tightened his arm around her, she sounded so fragile. She must have had so much worries back then he had never realized. Questions like: 'Will he hit me? Will he mistreat me? Will he have his whores? What if he really eats babies?' It had never crossed his mind that there had been more than just the indignation to marry a dwarf. Ned felt really stupid. His daughter had been afraid he would send her in a hell of a marriage with a possible abusive husband and he hadn't seen it.

"How did it change?" He asked her, schooling himself for his stupidity. What a father was he? Following his honour, blind for more than the obvious reasons.

"I am not sure, it just happened." She said with a small smile reappearing on her face. "After he delayed our first night together I started to rethink my beliefs again. I let him a chance and gave him a token of trust. He didn't disappoint me." Ned saw a small tear, only a single one in her eye and used his finger to remove it. "First we just talked. Or better he asked questions and I answered. He presented me everything I could have wished for. He told me stories. Slowly he has proven himself worthy of my trust and then it just happened. I can't say when it happened but I lost all fear of him or of the future. I started to know that he would care for me, always protect me and that he would never be something other than good to me. I became happy, so did he. After I started to trust him. We have built what you see today, brick by brick."

"That reminds me a bit of me and your mother."

"Really? Sansa asked surprised, gazing up.

"Oh yes. At the start I was just a stern and scary Northerner for her but look at us now."

"Yes, I see what you mean. You are right." She sounded hopeful, Ned liked it.

Ned stayed with Sansa and let her tell from her life at the Rock. She told him of the people, who apparently loved her, of the feast and knights and wonders from the across the Sea which reached Lannisport.

Ned liked to listen to her, how enthusiastic she told him. It made him feel better. He hadn't sent her into one of the seven hells when he had followed Robert's orders. But there was still a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Even if all had played out well he hadn't known back then. Sansa could be married to a second Tywin Lannister right now and he would be the one to blame.

He looked at the heart tree and silently thanked the gods for protecting his daughter from such a faith.

Their time was interrupted by Rodrik Cassel who approached them.

"My Lord, my Lady." He greeted them. Only reluctant Ned rose and approached him. Sansa stayed in the grass, observing him.

"What is it?"

"We caught a deserter from the Nightwatch." By the words Ned knew what to do, duty, was his duty.

"Make the horses ready." Rodrik wanted to turn when Ned added. "Rickon will join us."

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**And now it begins ... (sort of)**

**I actually wanted to publish this story at the beginning of the week to ease the pain, sorry for the delay and then yesterday FF didn't work properly  
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**But Sunday will be the next chapter, no matter what (if FF work)  
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**I never wrote Ned before, so I am not sure about this chapter**

**But I have to say I am very fond of it, maybe my favourite Stark family chapter I written so far**

**Review, please!**


	5. Cat

**Unbetaed but I promise I will fix that**

**I own nothing**

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Cat listened with worry what Ned had to tell her. Apparently he had decided to take Rickon with him to the beheading of a Night's Watch's deserter. He was only six years old. They stood in a corner of the yard Ned hold her hands in his and calmly explained her that it would be time.

"He won't be a boy forever." He said, it were the exact words he had said to her when he had taken Robb with him for the first time, or Bran.

"HE is six Ned, let him be a child for some time longer." She tried to argue, knowing it was futile, but still, she had to try. "He is so happy in the moment with Sansa back and all. Don't spoil it with a severed head."

"He is a Northerner Cat and it is time." He cupped her cheek and gave her one of his looks that said that he wouldn't change his mind. She remembered them all too well. He had looked at her like that when he had said that Jon would live with them and when he had given their baby away to the Lannisters.

"Fine." She was defeated, she averted her gaze away from him, the painful memories of Sansa's departure rising to the surface.

"We will be back soon." He bid her goodbye and left, but then he turned around again. "I spoke with Sansa. I don't think you have to worry about her."

He left her in the yard, going to their sons to guide them to their duty. It was always duty.

Cat turned in the opposite direction and marched to the buildings, thinking about his last words.

'Don't worry about her' He had said, but Cat was worried. Since she had returned with her husband Sansa had acted wrong.

At least it had been a relief for Cat that Lord Tyrion wasn't the vile creature he had been described to her. His reputation was not as good as it should be. Sansa seemed happy, something Cat was glad about. She had feared Sansa would be miserable, alone without her mother around. Maybe it bothered her that Sansa had found a way without her but this wasn't her problem.

Sansa had acted like a Lannister since she had arrived. Disappeared was her sweet innocent little daughter. She had raised Sansa to be humble, decent, yes she had always wanted to be a southern princess but not like this.

Sansa had ordered the servants around, it looked like she would look down on them. Then there where these spendthrift gowns and jewellery. Cat was grateful to the gods that Sansa didn't looked like a harlot in them.

It wasn't how she had been raised. The news about the followers of her journey here had unsettled her only more. There were hundreds of merchants, so her husband could give her everything she wanted. It was wrong, the gods taught humility not decadency.

Cat was worried she had lost her daughter, that she had turned. She feared Sansa had forgotten what it meant to be a real Lady, to have duties.

She blamed the Imp, he pampered her too much, corrupted her. She hadn't been supposed to marry him at all. There had been other, eager to marry their daughter to Lord Tyrion, but her little girl had had to do the deed. Alone for that she wanted to rip out Lord Renly's head.

After Sansa had left with Ned for Casterly Rock Cat had received a raven from Lysa, then finally she had learned the entire truth about the King's orders and it had infuriated her.

According to Lysa's sources the Lannisters had intended to bind with the Tyrells. Ser Kevan had made an arrangement with Lord Mace Tyrell that his nephew and new Lord would marry Margaery, the rose of Highgarden. Ravens had been exchanged and vice the protests of his family Lord Tyrell had been determined to marry his daughter to the Lannister.

This marriage would have had bound them together, two of the richest, maybe the two richest houses of the seven Kingdoms united. Cat could see that this would have been a problem but it hadn't been the reason.

Apparently Lord Renly, the King's younger brother was a friend of Loras Tyrell, Lady Margaery's older brother. According to Lysa he had planned to work with Renly, even maybe arrange a marriage between those two. He at least had planned to bring Margaery to the court.

And so Lord Renly had spoken against the marriage, between Lady Margaery and Lord Tyrion, in the small council. He had proffered the concern that two rich houses allied through blood could be a threat to the King, a threat to the realm. Not to mention that the Tyrells hadn't fought for Robert during the rebellion.

He hadn't been wrong but his intentions hadn't been sincere. He had wanted Margaery for himself. He had convinced his brother that they couldn't let this happen, not least because the Tyrells hadn't fought for him.

But if they wanted to stop it they had to offer Lord Tyrion a bride, at least as highborn as Lady Margaery. This had posed the problem. The Tyrells were one of the great houses of the seven Kingdoms and marriageable daughters had been and were rare in them at the time.

Doran Martell had a daughter, even in the same age as Lord Tyrion but not only was she his heir, so a union between these two would have been even more powerful, the Martells hated the Lannisters too much. And even if not, the King mistrusted Martell as much as the Tyrells. It had had to be a girl out of the houses unquestionably loyal to Robert, so Baratheon, Arryn, Tully or Stark.

Robert was married to a Lannister and Lord Tyrion couldn't have married his niece, Shireen Baratheon, Lord Stannis's daughter, had been too young. Cat's brother and sister had both no daughter so the only one left had been her baby girl.

Cat had no idea where the eunuch had had the knowledge of Sansa's just recent flowering at the time. But he had told the council and Robert had made his decision. Cat would be forever grateful to Petyr that he at least had tried to stop the madness but he hadn't succeed.

Her girl had been damned by the King to marry a man just so Robert felt better. Renly had had his will. Lysa had written that many had spoken against the plan, the Hand and even the Queen had tried to convince the King out what however reasons. But Robert's brothers had sided with him and it had been done.

Luckily for them the marriage between Tyrell and Lannister hadn't been written in stone at this time. A cruel joke that the arrangement hadn't been valid, at least for Cat. Robert had offered Sansa to Lord Tyrion, not even bothering to ask Ned first, he had just sent a raven with the order. Lord Tyrion hadn't been able to reject a highborn bride offered by the King, not so early in his reign as Lord. A King's wish was always an order.

After the raven from King's Landing had arrived and Cat had come to known Sansa's supposed faith the first thing she had thought of had been to protect her daughter. She had argued with Ned, she had never done that before. She had damned him for his honour, to give their daughter away in an unknown faith.

She knew now she had been unfair to him, he had been as pained as she had been, maybe more. After he had returned and of course had assured her Sansa would be fine he had still startled up in the nights, cold sweet all over him.

He hadn't slept well for month, even the letters from Sansa hadn't calmed him down. It had taken time for him to come to terms with what he had done. And now to see Sansa had lessen his guilt. He had slept like a child last night.

Cat on the other hand hadn't slept well. She had thought about a letter a messenger, riding with the Lannister had given her.

Lysa hadn't wanted to trust a raven with it, she had found the content too important. So when they had headed to Winterfell after leaving King's Landing the messenger had rode with them.

Lysa had written about Sansa's visit in King's Landing and had expressed her worries about Cat's daughter. Lysa had written that Sansa had developed an unhealthy relationship with Queen Cersei, that she had acted like a 'spoiled brat' and the Queen would only encourage her in this behaviour.

What Cat worried the most was that Sansa had threatened Petyr during the tournament. How could her little girl have changed so much to threaten poor Littlefinger? Without any reason?

Rounding a corner Cat suddenly found herself in front of her son-in-law. Lord Tyrion stumbled back, a pile of books under his arms falling to the ground.

"My Lady." He greeted her a bit disorganised and started to pick up the books. "Apologize for my carelessness. I was just on the way to your library. I wanted to see if there are some rare books for my curiosity." He smiled up at her, straighten up after picking the books up.

Cat stood still in front of him, her hands folded. She mustered the little man her daughter had married thorough. No matter what was said, he was indeed ugly. Even if he tried to hide it with expensive clothes and all the distractions nothing could hide what he was. And her poor child had had to marry him. Sweet innocent Sansa who had always wanted to be a princess with a handsome knight at her side.

"My Lord." She said cold, trying to focus on something else.

"Tyrion my Lady. Tyrion is enough. We are related now." He tried to lighten the tense in the hall. She just stood there gazing down at him.

"No, I think my Lord is appropriate." Cat said, her lips pressed together. No matter what he said, he was a Lannister. Her poor child might have had to marry him, but this didn't mean Cat had to like him. He was the walking talking proof of the fact that Sansa had left, that the King had taken her away from her mother. Every time Cat saw him all her feelings, her desperation came up.

"I suppose it's better than Imp." He smiled again, a false smile. Cat could see that he was uncomfortable. May he, Sansa had been for sure uncomfortable in his bed, no matter what he had promised? Had he just been more discrete with Lord Tyrell or hadn't plan to marry at all than Cat hadn't lost her daughter so soon.

"My Lord" Cat bowed slightly and walked pass him when he said something.

"Did I have offended you?" He asked, Cat nearly laughed at the question but turned around to face him again. "What have I done?"

"You married my daughter." She said icy, glaring at him. The hallway was empty but at the moment she couldn't have cared less.

"It wasn't my intend to take her away from you." Cat's eyes widened, it was like he had read her mind. "And I never harmed her. I do everything I can to make her happy."

"And maybe this is part of the problem." Cat stated to him, crossing her arms over her chest. The little Lord looked puzzled first but then his face turned.

"Would you prefer that I torment her so you can hate me?" He asked her cold. "Or is it your problem that she is happy even without you around her?"

"How dare you?" Cat took a step nearer to him and glared down. He had the impertinence to look up at her with a smug expression on his face. "This is not my problem."

"So what is it?" He asked her, raising an eyebrow in a mocking expression.

"You pamper her, you corrupt her with your gold. So she lost all her virtues." In the moment she said it Cat already regretted that she hadn't just gone away.

"I make her happy, nothing more." The Lord of Casterly Rock bowed to her and turned around walking away.

Cat was left behind in the hall, her own anger boiled in her. She had lost her composer with him. All her anger and desperation had been unload on him, because she didn't want to blame Ned for giving Sansa away, or Sansa for enjoying her life. He was better to blame.

Cat turned again and walked towards the glassgarden, knowing she would find Sansa there. She felt a bit of regret for treating Lord Tyrion this way, after all he made Sansa happy, she should be thankful for that. It could have been much worse.

Sansa sat between tendrils of blue winter roses in the glassgarden. She was preoccupied with her needlework and green bard played a slow melody on a harp. Sansa looked up when she heard Cat approach.

"Mother" she smiled, a smile that warmed Cat's heart.

"Sansa." She said and stood beside her, mustering her needlework. She had embroidered a wolf's and a lion's head mirroring each other on a cloth. The Wolf was out of silver yarn and the Lion out of golden. She had been working on the decorations at the verges. It was perfect. Cat was happy she hadn't unlearned it and cultivated her talent.

"I am here to talk to you." She said and Sansa looked surprised at her serious tone. "Alone" Cat added glancing to the green man. Sansa turned to him and with a wave of her hand the man stood up and left.

"What is wrong?" Sansa asked anxious, her eyes fixed on Cat.

"I want to talk about that." Cat glanced to the leaving bard.

"About the bard?" Sansa asked puzzled, tuning in her chair. "What is with him?"

"It's not about the bard but how you treat him, how you treat all servants as well as your expenses." Cat explained. Sansa looked at her and then carefully placed her needlework on the table.

"Oh" She gazed at her mother. "Father already told me you are worried. But there is nothing to worry about me, I am fine."

"And what is with your encounter with Petyr in King's Landing?" Cat asked her straight forward at her defiant answer.

"You know?" She asked a bit uncertain, her eyes went to her hands folded on the desk in front of her.

"Lysa wrote me." Cat said more calm. "She says you threatened Petyr without a reason."

"She lies!" Sansa exhaled, letting a shocked expression on Cat's face over this accusation. "She wasn't even there. She was always occupied with breastfeeding her so precious Sweet Robin. She couldn't know."

Cat looked taken aback at Sansa's outburst. She needed a minute to handle what she had just heard. It was silent until Cat took a deep breath and asked, ignoring all about her sister.

"What happened Sansa?" She asked, more motherly this time, sitting down at the table.

"He starred at me, all the time." She said fragile, gazing back at her hands.

"Maybe he was just fascinated how much you look like me?" Cat suggested, not really knowing what to make out of it. "You know we grew up together."

"It made me uncomfortable. And then there was the smirk, I didn't like it." Sansa told her, looking up. "I wanted him to stop. The Queen gave me an advice how and it worked. I had to show strength she said, like a Lady she said and she had been right."

"You shouldn't listen to all what the Queen says." Cat replied worried. She could suddenly imagine very well what Lysa had meant with unhealthy relationship. The Queen was known for much, but not for a good heart.

"You sound like Tyrion." Sansa said with a barked laugh. "He said I shouldn't listen to her too. I should be careful he had said."

Maybe you should hear on him. After all he knows her very well. He is her brother." Once again Cat had to rethink what she knew about Lord Tyrion. It shocked her that both had the same worries about Sansa.

"It is just because they don't like each other. Ser Jaime has told me they never did." Sansa looked out of the glass in the wild. "But I like her. I also like to spend time with her.

"But why?" Cat asked reaching out for Sansa's hand.

"Because she knows how it is to be a Lannister Lady. She knows how it is when so much is expected from you. I wanted her help and she gave it to me." Sansa justified herself, standing up and paced the room.

"Sansa, you have me." Cat was hurt that Sansa hadn't sent for her help, but she looked helpless in the moment and a mother couldn't just let her alone in such a moment.

"I wanted to proof I am able to do it alone. Also you are only the Lady of Winterfell, here is no big city with people who expect so much of you, or dozens of Lannisters who want something from you. Let alone the Lords of the Westerlands who are like needy children carving for my attention." Sansa voice pitched, Cat stood up and walked over to her, taking her hand in hers

"You forget I am the Lady of the North, I am certainly know what you mean." She said empathizing, cupping one of Sansa's cheeks. "You're not alone Sansa."

"I know, I also have Genna." Sansa stated.

"Genna Frey?" Cat asked surprised and with a weird feeling in her stomach when she thought of Walder Frey.

"She is more a Lannister than a Frey" Sansa smiled and loosed herself from Cat, walking back to her chair. "She helps me at the Rock with everything but sometimes it's not enough so I sought Cersei's help."

"Promise me next time you ask me as well." Cat sat down again too, looking at her daughter. "Before you ask the Queen or threaten somebody."

"Promise" Another barked laughter escaped Sansa. "By the way Lord Baelish can't raise a complaint. When Ser Loras beat Ser Jaime at the tournament he won a great amount of money from Tyrion."

"He did?" Cat asked not so much out of curiosity more out of delight the mood lightened again.

"Tyrion always bets on his brother and he lost." Sansa glanced briefly down before looking Cat in the eyes, her demeanour serious. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, what is it?" Cat was worried again, Sansa looked strange. She took a deep breath and then there were silence. For a while Sansa said nothing, she looked like she steeled herself, gathering courage.

"How long does it take to become pregnant? I didn't want to ask a Septa or Cersei."

Cat gasped at Sansa, how came her daughter to ask her such a delicate question? Hadn't Ned told her that the Imp had promised not to touch her?

"Why do you ask?" Cat had a lump in her throat, Sansa averted her eyes, she seemed to feel awkward. "Did he? Did you?"

"We try since nearly a year but…"

"Sometimes it takes it time." Cat left her seat and approached her daughter, laying her hand around her shoulder. "Are you even sure you want his children? I mean he is…"

"I am his wife, am I not?" She said defiantly. "And the Maester of Casterly Rock has said it is likely our children would be normal." Sansa nearly sobbed. "I want children."

"I am sure you will, let it some time." Cat held her firmer, lying her head on hers.

Her little girl was a woman now.

-##-

They had spent some time together in the glassgarden. Sansa had asked question after question and Cat had been glad to answer all of them. Sansa had said she would feel stupid to ask some of them. It hadn't been stupid questions.

Later they had walked in the great hall together for dinner. This time it was supposed to be a private dinner just for the family, and Jon and Theon. Sansa's husband had joined them short afterwards. He was pretending their encounter the afternoon hadn't happened.

Cat was glad for that. She didn't want to explain it to Sansa. She had also a bad consciousness about what she had said. Tyrion Lannister was good to Sansa and perhaps she had to overlook some of her behaviour.

Suddenly the doors were swung open and Bran and Rickon stormed in the hall. Cat stood up to welcoming them and then she saw it.

They had three little furry balls in their arms. – Wolves

"Look what we found on the road." Bran exhaled excited holding two of them up. "They lost their mother and father said we could keep them."

Cat stood there, wondering what had possessed Ned when Bran walked over to Sansa and put one of the pups in her arms. She exhaled a surprised sound when the light grey wolf snuggled close to her.

"This one is for you." Bran explained smiling. "There were six pups, four male and two female, one for each of us."

Sansa held the pup close to her and mustered it with a smile. It was a noble animal.

"Oh so sweet. Can I keep her?" She asked towards her husband who had observed the scene close. Cat's attention was now focused on his reaction.

"Who am I to forbid you to have a wolf?" He asked, throwing his hands in the air.

"I will call you Lady." Sansa snuggled the pup near her face, a bright smile on her lips. "I think you need a collar, aren't you?" Sansa spoke to the pup in a high voice. "One with diamonds matching your fur." Sansa glanced to her husband who exhaled a puff of air and bowed in agreement.

Cat wanted to say something but Maester Luwin came up to her from behind. The old man startled her out of her intentions. She turned around, her hand on her heart.

"Pardon my Lady but there is a raven from King's Landing."

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**I actually have nothing to say ... too much feelings from last night's episode  
**

**Sansa x Tyrion happens did you see it?**

**Review please**


	6. Jon

**Sorry this is un-betaed**

**GRRM owns everything and most likely dislike me for writing it**

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Waking up from his slumber Jon blinked his eyes. Turning his head to look out of the window he saw that it was early in the morning, the sun wasn't up yet. He slowly rose, still a bit tired. It had been late last night. It had happened so much in so short time.

While he got dressed he started to review what had occurred yesterday after they had returned with the wolves. Alone the coincidence to find the wolf pups had been unbelievable but then one for every Stark children, even for him. Many already had said it would be a sign from the old Gods.

Jon wasn't sure about that but he liked the pups. His own he had named Ghost, suitable concerning his white fur. Robb's was Grey Wind, Arya's Nymeria, Sansa had named hers Lady and Rickon his Shaggydog. Only Bran hadn't found a name yet but Jon was sure he would soon.

He felt already a connection to his, like he had seen his siblings having seemingly the same feelings towards their wolves. The wolves were theirs, their responsibility. This had been his father's condition, feed them, burry them yourselves. Lady Stark hadn't been so fond of the wolves yet, she feared they would be dangerous and had them banned from the halls. Except Sansa's, technically Sansa was a guest and it wasn't courteous to ban a guest's pet out of your hall. That had been something Rickon and Bran had complained about all evening. Sansa had her Lady on her arm, and they had had to go outside to see theirs.

Then there had been the raven from King's Landing, the old saying was definitely right: Dark wings dark words. The Hand of the King, Jon Arryn was dead and the King was riding for Winterfell. Even without knowing his intentions Jon, together with Robb had been able to guess what he wanted easily. Robert Baratheon was on his way to make their father Hand of the King, maybe even marry his oldest son to Arya or his daughter to Robb or Bran.

The entire evening had been very saddened, knowing what would come next.

Father would follow his call and become Hand, he would leave, Jon was sure of that. He himself wasn't sure what he would do then. He didn't want to leave, but a bastard won't follow to the royal court and as much as he saw Winterfell as his home, as much as he loved Robb and Rickon who clearly would stay the thought of being alone with Lady Stark, who despised him, wasn't something he looked forward too.

Maybe it was time to take the black once and for all. He was eighteen now, surely old enough. Jon planned to leave when his father would leave, it would be a good time then.

But first there was the royal family who would visit, Sansa and her husband had been thinking to extend their stay until they would be there. But there hadn't been sure yesterday, Lady Stark had encouraged them, as well as Bran, Arya and Rickon. Tyrion had thought it would be too inconvenient to burden them with the visit of all his entourage together with the King's. They had promised a decision today.

Jon would like if Sansa and Tyrion would stay. After some initial difficulties he had decided to like the little Lord. It seemed he made his sister happy and that alone was a reason to like him, as well as he treated him like an equal brother of Sansa rather than like a bastard.

But what had him surprised most had been the change in Sansa's demeanour towards him. She had always been the one who treated him as an inferior part of the family, maybe because she had been and was so close to her mother. She had called him bastard since she had known what the word meant. But not anymore, it was really enjoyable, not that he hadn't been happy that she had come back, but he was wary about it.

Jon didn't know why but Sansa treated him different now. It was nearly as if she had forgotten that he was a bastard. She had even thought at him concerning gifts.

Who had thought two years ago that she would present him with a horse as well, especially with such an animal? He had rode his horse yesterday as his brothers and Theon had had. They were noble animals, smaller than northern horses but much more agile. The dornish who had taken care of them had explained that this dornish horses would be able to outrun any other and Jon couldn't argue with that.

Arya had loved her mare in the instant. When their father had left with Jon and his brothers she had been riding with it around the castle. Jon hadn't been surprised, the mare was exactly like Arya, skinny but quick. Jon had mused that she most likely had dashed through the countryside with a stick, 'training' again. He knew that she trained herself in sword fighting in the Godswood when she thought nobody would notice. The only thing she missed was a sword and Jon had already a plan for that, just a little token for his little sister.

Leaving his chambers to go to the yard to see for Ghost Jon chose the shorter way through the wing with the guest quarters. Normally this part of the castle was unoccupied and he didn't waste a thought on the fact that the Lannisters were housed in it.

So Jon was caught by surprise when he rounded a corner and pumped into a small figure. Totally startled he wanted to exhale a sound but when he looked down he founded the husband of his sister, guiding his finger to his mouth to silence him. Jon only was able to hold his sound and stepped back. Tyrion tiptoed to the open door to what Jon realized was his and Sansa's chamber and closed it carefully.

"Your sister is still asleep." He whispered while the door closed without much noise.

"Sorry I didn't see you." Jon apologized to the man but he waved just with his hand.

"Forget it Snow. Nothing happened" He said. Then Jon witnessed how he suddenly stuck his tongue out and fished something that looked like a pile of hair from his tongue.

"Wolf hair." He offered an explanation to Jon's questioning gaze. "Sansa's little pup started to lose its hair in the bed tonight." He continued knocking off more hair from his doublet.

"You let Lady sleep in your bed?" Jon asked unbelieving mustering the sour expression on the little man's face. The other wolves had to sleep outside and even if not, alone to consider letting them sleep in bed was preposterous.

"Your sister insisted." Tyrion explained with a forced smile, glancing briefly at the door. "What can I say? Everything that makes her happy." He sounded sincerer and the sour expression fainted and was replaced with a different Jon couldn't really determine, maybe a bit dreamy.

"She has twisted you around her little finger, hasn't she?" Jon asked sounding bolder than he had expected. Quickly his grin fainted by the idea he could have possible insulted him.

"I am her husband, that's what a good wife does." Tyrion smiled up at him and Jon was relieved to see he didn't look insulted.

"So she gets everything she wants?" Jon asked, reassured by his behaviour. They were still standing in front of the door, half whispering.

"Of course!" Tyrion answered in fake outrage, opening his arms in a theatrical gesture. "What do you think of me? She is my Lady, all what is mine is hers, as well as all she wants is hers too." He burst a half barked laughter out and gestured with his hand to the end of the hall. "I am on my way to order a collar for Sansa's wolf. You know something golden with diamonds, the pup can outgrow in a few days, so I have to replace it." He said, not sounding annoyed, as Jon would have expected. "Care to walk with me?"

Jon gave him a nod and followed him when he started to walk to the yard, the exact same way Jon had planned to go. Jon used the time to muster the man again. It was right he wasn't very handsome, he waddled, couldn't even walk straight. Jon had no idea how Sansa had come to like him so much. Yes his sharp tongue was very entertaining but still.

"Your sister only sparsely mentioned you first. You know that?" Lord Tyrion asked him nonchalant, glancing briefly up to him. "I had to pull out every bit of information about you out of her."

"I am a bastard." Jon said not without bitterness in his voice. Maybe it had been awkward for Sansa to come out of a family with a bastard or she had wanted to forget him.

"Yes you are." Tyrion stated the obvious but continued to walk, Jon measured his steps to stay behind him. "But it doesn't matter, you are her brother and believe me when I say she missed you like the rest."

"Except Theon," Jon said a bit curious. Sansa had never paid much attention towards Theon, he was rude, cheeky and arrogant but he had still been there like Jon. But lately she ignored him even more, avoiding him.

"Perhaps that's my fault." The little Lord admitted, not glancing back this time. "I once told her what happened during the Greyjoy rebellion. She was curious so I had practically no choice." He sounded a bit regretting. "I told her how Victarion Greyjoy, Theon's uncle, burned the Lannister fleet. I for myself still can smell the burning soldiers, it was horrible." He paused a moment, not seeing Jon's glare, how could he tell his sister such a story? "I am afraid my aversion has stained on her."

"Theon won't forget that." Jon said, even if Theon had felt better after he had gotten a horse too, he still felt excluded, more than Jon had had.

"May he." Lord Tyrion said, devaluing.

"Can you explain why Sansa has changed her behaviour to me so much?" Jon asked him, feeling a bit awkward.

"We are a bit self-centred, aren't we?" The Lord grinned up to him and changed his position to him while walking so he walked beside Jon now. "Like I said, you are her brother, sometimes it just need a new ankle to see how you stand to a person. I for myself have experienced that a great distance to my sister is very healthy for our relationship. I am about to say that if she would live in Asshai I nearly could endure her." Jon looked down to see if he grinned but he just raised his eyebrows as if he wanted to empathize that he was serious before he continued: "As far as it's about Sansa and you I can say it seems she realized that she loves all her brothers, not only the sons from her mother." Jon smiled at the notion.

"It seems you are good for my sister." He commented but then turned his expression sterner. "You should know, and that's not only me..."

"Do you want to threaten me that if I hurt her you and your brothers will come for me?" Tyrion asked half laughing. He stopped and turned to Jon, when he looked up Jon made sure to look not kidding. Lord Tyrion threw his hand up in a defeating gesture. "Don't worry, I won't."

Jon believed him, he didn't know why but he did. He offered the little man a smile which he returned before continuing walking.

"Will you stay?" Jon asked after a moment of silence.

"To meet my dear sister, you mean?" He sounded very disgusted of the very thought but then: "We had already intended to stay some time. And if that means we will meet the so noble royal family, I am afraid it's a curse we have to swallow."

Jon just smiled a bit at his remark, glad Sansa would stay for longer. In a swift move he walked pass her husband and opened the door to the yard for them.

It was cold outside, the summer snow had already settled on the ground. Sighting Tyrion walked pass him and headed towards the minor guest quarters near the stabled, maybe searching a squire of his or so. Jon just walked beside him again because he headed in the same direction to the stables and he enjoyed the conversation.

"I heard you have planned to join the Night's watch, isn't that so?" Jon's brother-in-law asked suddenly out of nowhere. "I always wanted to see the Wall." He added in a low tone.

"Yes I wanted to join two years ago." Jon told him, circling a box on the ground. "But then Sansa left and I…"

"Decided to stay for a bit longer." Tyrion finished his sentences, looking up with an empathic smile. Jon bowed his head in agreement. Jon had thought it would be better not to go, back then, Arya, Bran and Rickon had already lost a sibling back then.

"Yes. But soon I intend to join. Maybe if father leaves to the capital I leave for the Wall." Jon explained, observing a strange expression showing up on the little man's face.

"Ah" He exhaled, as if he had understood something. Jon didn't like it, it made him feel daft.

"What?" He asked a bit hostile.

"Nothing, just." He paused for a moment as if he considered his words to continue at all. Jon glared down on him and he gave him a look that said: 'If you must know' and continued: "You, a noble bastard at the Wall, between thieves and rapist, seeking honour to show he is more than just an accident."

"Starks man the Wall since thousands of years." Jon countered angry. "What is wrong with it?"

"Honour isn't found, you possess it or not." Tyrion lectured him, folding his hands behind his back. "You give up all pleasures of life and think it would be right, but listen." His tone turned more urgent. "I know what you search, what you want. You search glory, approval, people are supposed to see that you are more than a bastard." He averted his eyes. "I once sought the same."

"What do you know?" Jon nearly lost his temper with the man, maybe because he had hit exactly the right spot.

"I am a dwarf." He said bitterly. "All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes. Let me give you an advice: Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour, and it can never be used to hurt you. You won't find what you search at the Wall."

Jon wasn't sure what to make out of this man's advice. There stood, Tyrion Lannister, the richest man of the seven Kingdoms and lectured him about what it meant to be a bastard? But he couldn't deny that what he had sat felt right, undeniably right.

"Did you find what you sought for?" Jon asked him, standing beside him in the yard, maybe hopeful for a positive answer. Tyrion smiled at him.

"No." Jun gulped by his words. "But I found something much better. Your sister."

Jon wasn't sure what that meant, but maybe it had been something of a declaration of love. Jon couldn't tell, but he smiled at the short Lord.

Tyrion just continued walking towards the stables and Jon followed him.

"I found the life as a man of the Night's Watch is a really dull existence, wouldn't you agree?" Tyrion sounded nonchalant and Jon wanted to contradict but he wasn't even able to open his mouth. "Why won't you delay your joining in this fine brotherhood for some years and join Sansa and me in the Westerlands?" He stopped again, gazing up in Jon's face.

Jon was for the moment dumbfounded about the offer he opened and closed his mouth a few times but nothing ever escaped his throat.

"I think she would like to have one member of her family around. Something from home and the North." He continued when he noticed that Jon couldn't reply yet. He added with a half serious teasing voice: "And if would give you the chance to kill me. If you think I deserve it."

"What would be there for me?" Jon finally croaked out, his head was spinning and he had a hard time to find a clear thought. He had never expected such an offer, he was a bastard after all.

"Many adventures, girls." Tyrion suggested. "Bastard or not, you are Sansa's brother. The Lords, at least the minor one, or even some of the great, will be eager to marry one of their second or third born daughters to you. Let alone to get nearer to Sansa, to be in her good grace. Knights would like to buy you an ale. You could be knighted. I could also offer you a place in my household, other will do so for sure." He took a breath to continue. Jon was fascinated by all the prospects he offered. "You could sail, fight outlaws if you must. You would see exotics from all over the world in the harbour of Lannisport."

"You think Lords would want to marry their daughters to me?" Jon asked unbelieving, he was a bastard, his name alone showed that.

"Your sister is Lady of the Westerlands. Many greedy Lords live there, greedy for wealth influence, good grace, with her and me." He explained him, a smile playing around his lips. "To marry a daughter to you, a handsome smart young man who most likely move up the ladder under me, not to mention her brother, would be an easy way."

"Why would you offer me that?" Jon asked suspicious, still not believing the possibilities he had drawn for him in so bright colours.

"Like I said, you are Sansa's brother. She would like to have you around." He paused a blink, looking behind his back to the stables. "And perhaps your wolf could distract hers sometimes."

"Jealous?"

"Yes" he hissed leaning forward. Jon was totally taken aback by the reply. His comment had been nothing but a joke. He looked questioning at him. Tyrion looked a bit uncomfortable but continued clear: "Her pup is small soft and 'cuddly' and she likes to cuddle with it. That's my part." By the last words he hit himself on the chest with his fist.

Jon could only laugh at his serious face, he looked so comical. Jon patted him on the shoulder.

"Now excuse me, I have to find a jeweller and goldsmith which can make a golden collar with diamonds for the still growing wolf pup who invaded my bed." Whit these words he left Jon standing in the yard. He still tried to control his chuckling.

-##-

The day wasn't good. The King had come and offered his father the position as Hand of the King and Lord Stark had taken it yesterday. Arya had also been engaged with prince Joffrey. A spoiled boy like Sansa had described him. Arya hated the prospect.

The time before the King had come had been good, Sansa and Tyrion as well as their entourage had fitted in in Winterfell very good. The merchants and Lannister men had made the village in front of the gates of Winterfell rich. Jon, Robb and Theon had found some friends in the Lannisters, like Lucion, Lancel and Tyrek, Tyrion's cousins. The prospect of joining Sansa and Tyrion in the Westerlands was more and more promising to Jon, especially after Sansa had assured him how delighted she was by the idea. Even his father had suggested it could be a good idea.

But today the direwolves howled. While his father had been on a hunting trip with the King Bran had fallen from a tower. He had climbed. Maester Luwin wasn't sure if he would survive.

Jon and his siblings, including Tyrion and Theon waited in the great hall, anxious for news from Bran. Tyrion was holding Sansa's hand and petting her shoulder while she sobbed in his arms. Arya was pacing the room and Rickon seemed not to understand what was going on.

Finally the door was opened and his father walked in, his face shadowed.

"He is asleep, only the gods will decide if he survives or not."

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**Oh, yes, so what do you think?**

**I thinking about involving Brienne in the fic**

**Please review!**

**Next week: **

**"Nah, I won't spoil you"**


	7. Jaime

**Here is the next one, let me do something different**

**Endless thanks to my beta Andrich**

**I own nothing, GRRM own all - I just play with his creation**

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Jaime walked over the yard of Winterfell, his white cloak scratching over the dirty ground. He came from guard duty with his so called King. The drunk fool had once again disgraced his sister the last night by taking a kitchen wench into his bed. King Robert liked to let him stand guard so he could hear it.

Cersei had slept in a separate room provided for her. She and the children had a separate dining room away from Robert as well, and Jaime intended to go to them to break his fast with Cersei.

The entire castle was in a very bad mood since Lord Stark's son had fallen from the tower two days ago. It had been the boy's own fault. He had spied on Cersei and him. It was his first chance in weeks to be with Cersei and the boy had ruined it. Jaime admitted that it maybe had been to rash. Cersei was right, they could have pressured or threaten the boy. But if they had failed it would have meant death for Cersei and the children, all of them. Robert wouldn't have shown mercy if he found out.

Maybe he would have had to wait until they left the North, however. Jaime clearly remembered that Lord Stark wasn't very fond of dead children. His expression at the sight of the dead Targaryen children had been proof enough of that.

But even in hindsight Jaime found his actions reasonable. But, to his dismay, the boy wasn't dead. He might wake up one day and his dear Cersei was scared about this particular possibility. Even then, he perhaps hadn't seen them properly enough, at least Jaime hoped so.

Luckily his dear brother Tyrion hadn't introduced him to the boy. Tyrion had planned to, but it was futile now.

The entire castle had been shocked, and instead of laying low Cersei _had_ to visit her 'little wolf' the last day, to show her support. He still wondered how Cersei kept up with her act, not showing how displeased she was that the Stark girl was now the Lady of Casterly Rock, not herself. She still showed her hatred for Tyrion, but only in small doses when the girl was with them.

Jaime remembered how furious Cersei had been about Tyrion being Lord of the Rock instead of Jaime. He on the other hand couldn't be happier about it. It not only would have meant for him to leave Cersei but he would also have had to rule the Westerlands, something he would have hated. In the end it was most likely that Tyrion would have done the work anyway. So why not let him have the Rock, Jaime's brother had always been more suitable for this kind of things anyway.

Cersei, of course, hadn't been willing to accept that. Jaime had had to listen to all her raging when he had come back from the Rock. But, though she was Queen, Cersei had no means to prevent their brother from getting the Rock. She also hadn't been able to stop Robert from sending him the Stark girl to marry. Cersei had tried to stop that in the hopes that Tyrion would not father any children, meaning Tommen could be Lord of the Westerlands someday. But she once again failed, and Jaime had to endure her wrath as opposed to enjoying his very valuable alone time with his sister.

Cersei had mapped out another plan, this time a very un-Cerseilike plan. She wanted to influence the Stark-girl to seize some control over her and maybe even Tyrion. Something that needed patience and tact, traits not very Cerseilike. But she managed it, calling the girl 'little wolf', 'teaching' her how to act as a Lannister and giving her advice.

The girl was very susceptible, the little hilarious episode with Littlefinger had proven that. Jaime on the other side thought that she underestimated the girl. Cersei had seen what she had done with Littlefinger and still believed her a mouse easy to control. Jaime knew that Tyrion shared not only his knowledge with her but also let her participate in ruling the Westerlands. Jaime was not blind and could see the girl was skilled. Also, back in King's Landing Tyrion had lionized about her to him, not only about her beauty but also about her mind. After a few conversations with her, Jaime had realised what he had meant, and that Tyrion was right. He also had to admit that Cersei was wrong. If his sister wasn't careful, the 'little wolf' would bite her.

Jaime also knew that Tyrion was still worried about Cersei and his wife, and had asked Jaime to do something about it. Why must it always been him to stand between his siblings? Why couldn't they just love each other? As long as Tyrion wouldn't love Cersei like he did of course.

But this was all before the boy had fallen from the tower. Now Jaime only received glares from his little brother, a totally new feeling for him. It hadn't surprised him that Tyrion knew, or at least suspected something. So Jaime was suddenly subject to his disfavour, maybe even anger. He didn't like it, he didn't want to be on bad terms with Tyrion. They were lions, they shouldn't fight against each other.

But Tyrion also saw the wolves as a part of his family now. He hadn't forgotten the lion part of course, Jaime was sure he wouldn't say anything about the boy flying not on his own effort. Tyrion was a Lannister after all and Lannisters are loyal to their family.

But Tyrion was displeased with him because he had made his dear wife upset.

Jaime's brother adored his wife, loved her and craved for her affection, so he took everything that clouded her happiness as a personal insult.

Jaime suddenly had to smirk about the memory of Tyrion competing for his wife's attention with the wolf pup of hers during the welcoming feast.

Yes, Tyrion was lovelorn with his wife and totally under her thumb, in a good way. Jaime had observed with great interest how Tyrion had tended to all her wishes, smiling like a puppy when she laughed or kissed him.

Sansa enjoyed it, yes, and Jaime believed that she enjoyed Tyrion's company as well. Maybe she was even in love with him.

Jaime had no idea why. He had no illusions what Tyrion was, how the gods had handicapped him, had punished him with this appearance.

But somehow he had managed to get Sansa's affection, and maybe love. Maybe it was a talent of his, Jaime mused. After all Tyrion already had managed that a girl had fallen in love with him once, even if he could never know of that. It was Jaime's biggest secret he kept from his brother. Jaime was selfish, he knew that. If he would tell Tyrion, he would hate him, something Jaime didn't want.

Deep in his thoughts, Jaime nearly collided with one of the Lannister servants hasting over the yard, heading towards the wing of the castle, Jaime knew, where Tyrion and Sansa had their quarters, in his hand a wooden chest. Looking at him Jaime had to chuckle.

"Or she loves him because he drowns her in expensive presents." He whispered jokingly, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

However, Tyrion was happy with Sansa and that was the only thing that mattered for Jaime. His brother deserved to be happy and if she made him happy it was enough for Jaime to like her. So he would have to talk to Cersei about her and the 'little wolf'.

After all, Sansa seemed to be very talented as Lady Lannister. It nearly seemed she was born to be Tyrion's wife. She was able to compete with him on Tyrion's chosen battlefield, the mind. She also let him make her happy, something Jaime knew his brother enjoyed. And so as long as Tyrion was happy with her Jaime would like her as a cousin, not like a sister. Tyrion wouldn't approve to that. Maybe he would even make him to a eunuch like Varys for anything else, the right height he had Jaime joked to himself.

'He could cut my passing by'

While he continued his walk to Cersei Jaime started to muse about how this constellation, that meant such a bliss to his brother, had happened in the first place.

His father's death had been surprising and shattering all at once. Suddenly the great lion had been dead. Jaime remembered when Tyrion's raven had arrived. His brother's neat handwriting had been in disorder, and he had even made mistakes. Jaime hadn't wept for his father that day, neither had Cersei. But her mourning hadn't last long until she started raging about Tyrion being Lord.

Jaime's drunken King had had only some spiteful words for his father-in-law.

"And Lannister, how is it to know that your brother inherited what is yours?" He had asked Jaime after at least four flagons of wine. He hadn't even been man enough to insult Jaime sober. "The great house Lannister, the lions ruled by a drunken whore monger instead of you. Your bloody father would have liked that."

Jaime hadn't let his true feelings at the surface this day. Robert hadn't been supposed to know how glad Jaime was that Tyrion had taken the burden to rule on his shoulders not he. But Jaime had also nearly laughed at Robert for underestimating Tyrion. King Robert and his Hand Jon Arryn had most likely thought Tyrion would be weak, they never had been so wrong.

Actually Jaime was very eager to see the day when Robert would realise that Tyrion could be as dangerous as their father, but then it would be too late for him.

Only two days after the raven had arrived Jaime had left the capital, riding three horses to death on his way to Casterly Rock. He had only slept each second day, and reached his home in only three weeks.

For hours after his arrival Jaime had stood in front of his father's grave, his dirty cloak still around him. Tyrion had come and kept him company. They didn't speak while standing in front of the massive plate with the statue of their father.

Later that night they had drunk, as small as Tyrion was it always surprised Jaime how much he could drink. They had talked about their memories of father, joked around, or had just sat in silence.

Tyrion had told him of Kevan's arrangements with the Tyrells. First Jaime hadn't believed the proud Tyrells would ever consider marrying their precious rose to his brother. He had thought the wine would have spoken out of his brother. But the next day Kevan and Genna had confirmed his words.

Over the cause of the next days Jaime had found a great pleasure in teasing Tyrion about his marriage, unless they had talked seriously about it in the evenings. Tyrion had been uncertain about his suitability as a husband. Jaime had been the good brother and scattered his worries. Tyrion was his brother and even if he hadn't believed it Jaime never doubted his ability to be a good husband. But Jaime had also discovered that Tyrion had many hopes resting on this marriage.

Tyrion had just wanted a nice wife, somebody to love and who would love him back, something more than just a whore with half a brain. The Tyrell girl had been his chance for that. This had been the reason why it had enraged Jaime so much more when he returned to King's Landing and had come to know that the Knight of the Flowers had run to his boyfriend to save his little sister from Jaime's so-vile Imp brother.

Even worse had been that they also planned to give him a substitute wife, to force her on him and force him on her as well. Tyrion hadn't been able to deny a wife offered by the King, Jaime had feared Tyrion would flog himself for marrying an unwilling bride.

But he had obtained great satisfaction when he had seen Tyrion and Sansa at Joffrey's last Nameday. His brother had looked so happy and the Stark-girl as well. Loras Tyrell most likely had bit in his own ass when he had seen that Tyrion wasn't the monster he was called, but a good husband. Jaime hoped he regretted what he had denied his sister.

Passing the smithy, Jaime spotted a person of certain interest to him. He changed his destination and approached Ned Stark's bastard. The boy would soon be part of Tyrion's household and Jaime wanted to know what kind of wolf his brother would bring in the lion's den, not to mention it was an opportunity to amuse himself.

"I hear my brother invited you to join him at Casterly Rock." Jaime casually spoke to the boy who had inspected a thin little sword.

"Yes Ser." He answered, startled, nearly jumping at Jaime's surprise approach. The boy turned around to face him, his dark Stark hair framing his head. Jaime reached around him and took the little sword in his hands and turned it.

"It's a bit long for a letter opener. Don't you think?" Jaime asked him, keeping his voice casually. "I hope it's not supposed to be a sword, because in the Westerlands you only would embarrass yourself with that."

"It's not for me." The boy hissed before snatching the sword out of Jaime's hand. He briefly glared at him but remembered who Jaime was soon enough. Jaime gave him a smug smile, the boy hadn't much resemblance with his siblings, except Joffrey's bride of course.

'Not bad that boy.' He thought to himself, the boy had the guts to snatch a sword from him but enough sanity not to challenge him further.

"Pardon my misjudgement my dear Stark." Jaime said while slowly invading the boy's personal space. "Oh, excuse me, Snow." He whispered when their faces were at the same height, only inches from one another. "I can only suspect why my brother decided to take you with him." He said dismissive, not moving. That was a lie, Jaime knew very well why Tyrion had done it. In fact, his brother had had several reasons Jaime could think of: First because he saw something in the boy, Tyrion was normally good in finding useful persons for him, second because he had a spot in his heart for cripple, bastards and broken things and third because he wanted to do something for his wife. Jaime had seen the boy fighting the other day and knew he was talented, he wouldn't say that out loud though. But if he wanted to understand the boy so he had to poke the wolf.

"Lord Tyrion offered me to come with him because…"

"Because of your sister." Jaime interrupted him and leaned back, changing his weight on his heels. "Tell me, how is it to rise above all you could imagine, from a noble bastard to an honourable life you couldn't dream of, because of your baby sister fucking my brother?"

The boy looked like he wanted to rip Jaime's throat open with his teeth, good. One of his hands closed around the hilt of the little sword. Jaime himself guided his hand to his dagger, waiting to see if the boy would make a mistake, smiling inside, this was funny to get the boy over the edge.

"It must be such a hard decision, to give up protecting the realm as a man of the Night's Watch and go with my brother to wine, gold and women." The boy's hands were balled to fists and Jaime could see fire in his eyes. But the bastard didn't move.

"It seems my brother won't regret his decision." Jaime smirked mocking and turned on his heels, leaving the boy at the smithy. "At least I hope so." He called over his shoulder, catching a glance on the boy who kicked a bucked with his feet, letting it shatter at the wall.

The boy had passed Jaime's little test. Jaime had wanted to see how he would react and hadn't been disappointed. The boy had been smart enough not to attack him out of his wrath, and that was good. It was the way you survived. Not to forget how much fun it had been for Jaime.

After a few more moments, he finally reached the building he had headed for in the first place. Stepping into the dining room the first thing Jaime beheld was Cersei. She sat at the table in all her beauty and glory, Jaime immediately had the urge to kiss her, not as her brother but as her lover. But Tommen and Myrcella, as well as Tyrion, sat at the table with her. Tyrion might know of their love but the children couldn't know, so Jaime had to control himself. He seated himself besides Cersei and placed a kiss on her cheek, like a brother would do.

"Good for you to join us brother." Tyrion looked up from his plate, giving him a rather cold smile. "Long night?"

"And what are you doing here, where is your wife?" Jaime asked, trying not to let his disappointment that Tyrion still hadn't forgiven him for the Stark boy show.

"She wanted to pray for Bran in the Godswood. Knowing how the gods and I stand, she hasn't asked me to join her." Tyrion explained to him. Jaime observed how he tightened his grip around his fork while saying the Stark boy's name.

"Will Bran survive?" Myrcella asked Tyrion, worry in her voice.

"The Maester says yes. The only question is when or if he wakes up." Tyrion explained her, leaning over the table. Myrcella and Tommen smiled about that. Jaime on the other hand exchanged a quick glance with Cersei. He saw the worries in her face.

"But even if the boy lives, will be a crip…." Jaime started but fell silent when he saw Tyrion's look, as if he knew what he had wanted to say. Normally his brother wasn't able to silence him, Tyrion actually never had a reason for it too. But for a slight moment Tyrion looked much like their father when he had been displeased, and something in Jaime automatically made him fall silent.

"How is Sansa handling it?" Cersei asked in the silence, she even sounded worried about Sansa. Blinking slightly Tyrion let his gaze wander to her, eying her suspiciously.

"Her brother fell from a tower, what do you think?" Tyrion asked hostile but then Jaime saw how his eyes flickered to the children and his demeanour changed immediately to something more 'brotherly'. "How would you feel when I or Jaime would fall from a tower?" Tyrion gestured to him.

"I would be devastated if Jaime fell from a tower." Cersei replied, taking her cup and holding it in the air so a servant could refill it with wine.

"You see what I mean." Tyrion leaned back and held his cup up as well. Unlucky for the approaching servant who know had to decide which cup to refill first. The cup of the Queen or the cup of the Lord of the Westerlands.

The man in Lannister red decided to refill Tyrion's cup first, very stupid decision. Jaime observed the winning smile on Tyrion's face while Cersei's turned sour. When the servant approached her she had already put down her cup and glared at him to leave.

'I will have to hear something about that tonight' Jaime sighed to himself

"Are you coming with us back to King's Landing?" Tommen asked Tyrion eagerly. With the exception of Joffrey, Cersei's and his children loved their uncle as well as they had taken their new aunt in their hearts. Jaime liked that. Cersei had told him that Tommen had even cried during the first nights after Tyrion and Sansa had left for Winterfell. Myrcella was better in hiding her emotions but Jaime knew she had been sad too.

"Will you?" Cersei asked wary, fixing Tyrion with her eyes.

'And round two starts' Jaime thought to himself. Their constant bickering was really wearisome for him.

"With Bran still not woken up and Lady Catelyn staying at his bedside we thought it would be better to stay for a while longer." Jaime rose his eyebrows in surprise at Tyrion's words. How could his brother want to stay here? "Rickon will not coming with you to King's Landing and Sansa thinks somebody should take care of him. And her mother of course." Tyrion added with a sigh. It didn't seem that he liked the prospect of staying in Winterfell, but like Jaime had thought, he was under his wife's thumb.

"Will you visit us when you come back then?" Myrcella asked hopefully. But Tyrion gave her only an apologizing look.

"I am sorry but I've been away from Casterly Rock for nearly half a year. Even with Uncle Kevan and ravens, at sometime I must be back." Tyrion explained carefully, gesturing with his hands for forgiveness. Tommen left his head down at the words and stared at his plate. Myrcella nodded that she understood, but her smile went away. Tyrion grimaced at the sight and added conspiratorially, leaning over the table to them: "I will have to stay for a while at the Rock, but what if I say we will visit you afterwards? And we will bring presents." Tyrion grinned at them, quickly glancing to Cersei who looked very displeased.

"You must promise" Tommen demanded.

"Yes you must." Myrcella supported her brother. Both looked at him, expectant and stern. Jaime would have laughed but didn't want to destroy the moment.

"I shall not rest until we will meet again." Tyrion exhaled in a theatrical voice, guiding his right hand above his heart, wagging with the other in the air. His demeanour made the children giggle.

"I think it is time to go." Cersei exhaled tensely at the sight and rose from her chair. She glared down on Tyrion for a last time before heading to the door in a hurry. "Come on" She said to the disappointed Tommen and Myrcella, and left with them.

Tyrion shrugged and wanted to rise when Jaime raised his hand.

"Wait, please." He gestured the servants to leave and changed his seat to sit next to Tyrion who suddenly found his cup much more interesting. "I think we must talk."

"There is nothing to talk about." Tyrion dismissed Jaime's offer but he wouldn't accept that.

"What happened…"

"What happened?" Tyrion barked out, taking a sip of his wine before continuing. "I am not sure what you mean _brother." _His brother fixed Jaime with his glare. "I am also not sure if it would be wise of me to know the truth." Tyrion sighted resigning. "You are my brother. You were always my brother you treated me as such. I will never forget that and I will always love you for what you did."

Jaime felt a sudden lump in his stomach, a bit of guilt.

"But the boy is nine. He wanted to be a knight one day. He looked up to you and wanted to meet you Jaime." Tyrion sounded sad. "I am afraid eventually I will forget what happened. But you must let me some time, after all he is Sansa's brother."

"So it's only about her?" Jaime asked curious, not knowing if he wanted to know.

"Yes and no. He is a child and she is my wife. Two reasons Jaime, not one."

"What will you do if he wakes up and say something unfortunate?"

"Why should we be concerned about his dreams?" Tyrion gripped the flagon of wine on the table, refilled his cup and drank it at once.

"And if they believe dreams? You know the Northerner are superstitious people."

"You know how much I love my family brother." Tyrion stated sternly.

"But what if your family fights?"

"I won't let this happen." Jaime was pleased by Tyrion's words because he knew when he was sincere.

Tyrion suddenly grinned at Jaime, one of the light grins of his. Jaime relaxed and leaned back, the tension in the room had clearly lessened.

"Now that we talked about that." Jaime changed the topic. "I spoke with your new addition to Casterly Rock."

"Oh by the gods what did you do to the poor boy?" Tyrion asked in faked shock. "If you managed to scare him away, then..."

"Don't worry." Jaime laughed at his threat. "I just tested him. Your 'distract the pet' plan isn't in danger."

-##-

The day had come. The King and his entourage, as well as Lord Stark, were leaving Winterfell to go south. Jaime couldn't say he was sorry for that. The North really sickened him and in King's Landing there would be much more time to spend with Cersei alone.

The Stark boy hadn't woken up yet and Jaime was confident that even if he would nothing bad would come from that. Tyrion's behaviour towards him had normalised as well. He still didn't like what Jaime had done but did his best to forget it.

They were in the yard saying goodbye. Cersei hugged the Stark girl, telling her she should visit them soon. Tyrion's displeased face at the sight nearly made Jaime laugh.

Jaime hugged her as well, so did Tommen and Myrcella. Tyrion received the same treatment from both of them. The promises to come to King's Landing were corroborated and it had been done.

Tyrion didn't look like he wanted to stay longer, but the decision had been made.

'The things we do for love.' Jaime thought by the sight of his brother getting smaller in the yard while he rode south.

* * *

**This was a difficult chapter for me, pre-redemption arc Jaime is somehow hard to write IMO**

**From now on the chapters will be different, one part about what happened the last two years out of Sansa's or Tyrion's POV, the other part will continue the story arc**

**I thought about letting Sansa and Tyrion go with Ned south, but I feared it would mean I would have to kill of Lady and first I didn't want that and second this time it wouldn't have been just the pet of Robert's friend's daughter killed but of the Lady of Casterly Rock. Tywin would have gone to war over such an insult and Tyrion, most likely as well or something more subtle ;) (I already had an idea, PM me if you want what to know about the alternative way, or I post it on Tumblr)**

**I am not sure if there will be a new chapter next week, depends if I become an uncle this week or not (or better when this week)**

**Review please**


	8. Cat II

**Hello, I have the feeling I should publish today, don't know why**

**Unbetaed version, I will update the betaed versions soon**

**More Author's notes at the end**

**GRRM owns everything**

* * *

Sansa

_The tournament of prince Joffrey's Nameday_

"You look uncomfortable little wolf. What is wrong?" Cersei asked her concerned, her voice sounding over the sound of cheering small folk and crashing lances. The sound caused Sansa a headache, the tournament for Prince Joffrey's Nameday wasn't at all what Sansa had expected, but this wasn't the reason for her discomfort.

Not only was the southern sun too hot for her likings but she also couldn't find the extolled chivalry under the knights she had expected out of the stories. The joist was dirty and loud, some knights in dilapidated armours swinging at each other with wooden sticks in the mud of the field. Not like the stories at all.

Tyrion once had arranged a tournament for her at Casterly Rock, after he had seen her observing the knights of the Rock jousting in one of the yards. This had been a tournament straight out of the tales she loved so much. The knights wore golden polished armours, their lances were wrapped with colourful silk, bards had sung and servants had served wine and sweet pastry. Tyrion had a tribune built for them, with golden seats high enough so the knights could look up to them. It had been civilized not like what she saw before her, even if she knew it had been more like a stage play than an actually tournament.

But here in King's Landing it was just barbaric, most of the knights looked like cutthroats, and Sansa was sure the knights of the Westerlands, which accompanied her and her husband to the capital, would soon prove that, Ser Jaime certainly would. She would cheer for them, clapping when they would show them what real knights were. This hedge knights wouldn't stand a chance. She would have cheered for Northerner as well but there weren't any in King's Landing at all.

King's Landing wasn't at all like she had pictured it. The city was dirty, loud and smelled like a gutter. Maybe she was a bit too spoiled with the sight of Lannisport in front of the Rock. The ancient city of the lions had a canalisation and looked like it had been planned by an artist while King's landing looked like everybody had built where he had liked. Sansa had pictured a beautiful city, perfect like Lannisport only bigger an embodiment for the realm and the home of the court, not that.

But not only had the city disappointed her, the court had as well. Was Casterly Rock all glorious with sweet wine, rich tasteful furnishings and noble spirited people King's Landing had an ugly red Keep and a drunkard King together with grumpy or creepy members of the council. The only light she had found where her Lannister family in the city, sadly in exception of the oldest prince.

Sansa had really wanted to meet Tyrion's siblings so she had pushed him so long until he had given in. It was unusual for him to deny her a wish so long and she still couldn't understand why. He had warned her of his sister but Sansa found the Queen very nice. They had welcomed her and Tyrion at the city gates. Cersei had directly allowed her to call her by her name relinquishing her privilege to be called 'your grace'. Sansa thought Cersei was the Queen she had imagined out of the stories, beautiful, proud and gentle. Sansa still couldn't believe how Cersei could bear to be in this city together with this King, she was so strong.

Sansa had also met her children, Sansa's nephews and nieces. It was still strange for Sansa to think of them as such, was she only two years older than the oldest, Joffrey. Sansa didn't like the crown prince, he looked like a prince but he behaved like a spoiled brat, towards Tyrion and her at least. First she had wanted to know him better but then there had be a rather cruel pun on Tyrion's expense and Sansa had seen over the prince's handsome exterior, she had looked closer and had seen what he was, he most likely came after his father.

Tommen and Myrcella on the other hand were sweet children Sansa had taken them in her heart at the first moment. She particular enjoyed the time with Myrcella and Cersei sowing in the gardens of the Keep, the only place not so ugly.

Her brother-in-law had also welcomed them. Ser Jaime was exactly what Sansa had thought he would be, the great golden knight. Sansa liked him, she had had a few conversations with him over the cause of the last days and he reminded her at Tyrion. It had needed some time but after she had looked very carefully she could see the similarities in the brothers.

King Robert hadn't welcomed her, the man barely acknowledged her presence in the city. When she had finally met him he only had given her a short glance before drinking again. She had tied to great him properly wasn't he a friend of her father after all. He hadn't looked her in the eyes either. He constantly behaved like he would be in a drinking hole not at the court. He yelled at people, Sansa knew he whored and drunk all day as well as encumbered the realm with debts. Sansa had no idea how her father could call such a man his friend.

The King's brothers hadn't been better, Lord Stannis always looked like he would shatter his teeth by grinding them any moment and Lord Renly had only given her a courtesies nod before leaving.

Sansa had at least hoped that her aunt would be different, but she had been disappointed again. Sansa had thought Lysa would be like her mother but she wasn't. Sansa had received some dismissive gazes and some words about how bad the Lannisters would be instead of a warmly welcome and some family talk. But what had shocked her the most had been her cousin Robert who had demanded to be feed in the mid of Sansa's conversation with Lady Lysa and then she really had breastfeed him, Sansa still had problems to get the image out of her head. This grown boy sucking at his mother breasts had been too much for her, Sansa wouldn't meet with her aunt again that was for sure.

Her husband had been kind though, even if he was a bit slowly because of his age.

"Your father was my ward for a long time, so by itself I could be some sort of your grandfather." He had joked with a smile and then had asked her how she would be. "But then I am your uncle as well. Strange isn't it?" He had really taken an interest in her wellbeing and had seemed relieved when she had told him how good her life was. Lord Arryn had smiled and had begun to tell her about her father's time at the Eyrie but had been called away before he had finished.

Sansa had also met the eunuch, the perfumed spider, but only briefly. One member of the court that really bothered her was Petyr Baelish. She knew he was a friend of her mother but for her he was just creepy. He starred at her incessantly as much as he smirked at her on a way that made her shiver. And exactly this stare made her uncomfortable at the moment.

Sansa glanced in the direction where Lord Baelish stood and while the drunken King yelled she shivered again by the Master of Coin's stare. Sansa wasn't a child, neither was she an innocent maid, she knew exactly what this stare meant and she didn't liked it how he undressed her mentally. Only Tyrion was allowed to look at her like that and to undress her in his mind as well as in real life. When her husband did it, it was always together with a gentle smile on his lips and a warm feeling in her stomach.

But Lord Baelish had only cold lust in his gaze and Sansa hated it and couldn't believe how he could arrogate to himself to look at her like that.

The hand of Cersei on her shoulder let her startle out of her thoughts and Sansa looked to her side in the Queen's face.

Cersei raised her eyebrows questioningly, purposely ignoring the yelling King.

"It's nothing." Sansa mumbled and averted her gaze to the ground. She didn't want to admit to Cersei how uncomfortable and vulnerable she felt by the stare. She had done her best to show Cersei that she was worthy to be the Lady Lannister. Even when she had asked her for advice about the Westerlands, after all Cersei was a Lannister and knew how to deal with the Lords.

Yes, Sansa had Genna to help her and Tyrion was a great help as well when he was patiently introducing her in all concerns of Casterly Rock and the Westerlands but there were certain aspects Sansa couldn't discuss with Tyrion and Genna's advice hadn't been helpful. And Sansa couldn't ask her mother. Sansa didn't want Lady Catelyn to believe she wouldn't be able to handle her duties alone and after all Casterly Rock wasn't Winterfell.

Cersei had helped her very much and Sansa was glad for it, even if some of her advises sounded extreme, but she was the Queen and it had sounded reasonable, in a way.

"You don't fool me Sansa." Cersei said empathetic, glancing up to the King. "Is it the King's behaviour?"

"No, it's …" Sansa glanced quickly to Baelish and Cersei followed her gaze and nodded in understanding. The tall beautiful woman closed her eyes and sighed.

"I see what you mean. Men are always the same." Cersei said dismissive and grimaced.

"I don't want it. I am married how can he…" Sansa stuttered. At Casterly Rock nobody starred at her like that. She was their Lady, married to their Lord, they had respect and so she barely knew such impertinence. There was of course some, and Sansa was aware of it but not so impertinent.

"Then put him in his place." Cersei stated clearly, straightening up. She was towering over Sansa, or at least it felt like that. They had nearly the same height but Cersei stood so proud and straight that Sansa felt like a small child compared to her. "You are a Lady of Lannister, he is just the offspring of a minor Lord, insignificant."

"But how?" Sansa asked her curious.

"You remember the words of House Lannister?" She asked like to a child bending down to Sansa.

"Hear me roar." Sansa replied automatically. Of course she knew them she knew everything about House Lannister, its history.

"Exactly. Listen little wolf, there is a hierarchy in this world and you stand above him, you have the power because you are a Lady of a great House." Cersei explained carefully, and she was right, like a King stood above a high Lord a high Lord stood above a minor, as well as a Queen stood above a Lady. "If you don't like it, stop him. Roar at him, or growl if you like it better." Cersei gave her a smile and with her hand on Sansa's back she lightly pushed her in Lord Baelish's direction.

Sansa wasn't so sure if she really wanted to confront Lord Baelish, but on the other hand Cersei had said she had to put him in his place and Sansa didn't want to disappoint her. She took a deep breath, gathered her courage and in a strong pace she walked over to the Master of Coins. She stopped at his side and turned towards the tournament field, pretending not to notice him and watching the joust.

She could feel the man's gaze on her and she felt even more uncomfortable. She wasn't sure how she should begin or what to say at all. She had never had to do something like this, there had always been Tyrion or somebody else of the Lannisters if she needed assistance, she had never been on her own. She knew how she could do it, she had witnessed Tyrion putting his unbending banner men in their place by threatening them cunningly, using hypothetical questions and scenarios with horrible outcomes. And she had an idea, fighting the disquieting feeling in her chest she started:

"It is seen impertinent to stare at a woman like this Lord Baelish, especially a married one." Sansa spoke casually, not averting her gaze from the knights. She had her hand folded in front of her fighting the urge to hug herself because of the presence of this man.

"I am sorry my Lady. I didn't intend to…" He started in his sleek voice that let a shiver of repulsion ran through Sansa's veins. So she cut him of:

"I am not interested what you intended, my Lord. I wish you to stop." She said more urgently and commanding still not looking at him. She wanted to hold her composure but also didn't want to look at him, not only because she feared she could lose it.

"My Lady I am sorry but you are the image of your lovely mother, I hold very dear." He continued and Sansa still could feel his eyes on her. She took a deep breath and decided to take more drastically measures.

"As the Master of Coins you have always the best interests of the realm in mind, isn't that so?" She asked, nearly smirking because she noticed how bewildered he was by her sudden change of topic, the rustling of his cloth let conclude he turned to her.

"Of course my Lady but…"

"So if my husband would offer to liquidate the crown's debts with House Lannister in exchange for the right to blind you with a hot iron, you would welcome that right?" Sansa finally turned to the man, her tone had been casually, nearly playfully something she had learned from Tyrion by watching. Baelish looked like he didn't really understood her question and Sansa was pleased to see that he lost his composure.

"Why would Lord Tyrion do something like that?" He stuttered, clearly not knowing if she had been serious or not by the first words but during the sentences he turned back to his old self San disliked so much, but still uncertain.

"He would if I ask him to." Sansa leaned a bit forward, feeling bold by the effect she had caused and smile sweet. "Stop starring at me."

Without waiting for an answer Sansa turned on her heels and left the paling Master of Coins, heading in a dignified pace towards Cersei who smiled at her.

While she was walking Sansa felt a knot in her chest and she immediately regretted her decision to threaten the man. It hadn't been decent or Ladylike it felt wrong and she wasn't sure how Tyrion would react. Would he disapprove or laugh? But then she recalled Cersei's words and told herself it would be fine.

"He looks really dumbfounded. Good work little wolf." Cersei praised her smiling, causing Sansa to blush. "You have a talent for…" Her words had been cut by the King yelling even louder and demanding more wine. Cersei and Sansa changed her attention to him and with great disgust Sansa noticed how his pants turned darker by some fluid.

The great King Robert had pissed himself and seemed not even to care. Sansa looked up to Cersei to see her grimace and Sansa could understand her. The matter with Baelish was forgotten entirely.

"Maybe we should go." Cersei said, stating more a fact than a suggestion.

"Won't we wait to see Ser Jaime?" Sansa asked a bit disappointed but the Queen waved her words away.

"Jaime will beat the Knight of the Flowers it will be quick and the only question is how much money your little husband will bet on him. So you won't miss anything, believe me." Cersei's tone didn't allow any backtalk. She gestured Myrcella to join them and led the way, Sansa followed. She was disappointed not to see Ser Jaime joist but on the other hand she could escape this horrible event and Lord Baelish who didn't dare to stare at her any longer.

-##-

Cat

Cat was fumbling her injured hand while waiting in the Godswood for the others. The last days weighted heavy on her and she felt terrible, her body ached her chest was heavy. Since Bran had fallen from the tower nothing was like it once had been.

Cat hadn't been able to do anything, just waiting at her sleeping son's bed, praying that he would wake up. Ned had left with Arya eight days ago to be the Hand of his friend, driven by Lysa's letter that Jon Arryn had been murdered by an unknown fraction of the court and she had been unable to do anything about it. Duty always duty.

She was very thankful that at least Sansa and her husband had decided to stay.

Over the last months, they had stayed at Winterfell, Cat had made her peace with the Lord of Casterly Rock. She still didn't like him very much, maybe this was the toll of a mother but she respected him on a strange way. He made Sansa happy, did everything for her and cared a great deal about her, this was acceptable for Catelyn. Even if she still had her issues over him giving Sansa every decadent intemperance she desired, no matter how expensive. Cat found it wasn't good that she got everything she wanted and took it for granted. But she had to admit that she couldn't do anything about it.

The two of them staying had been a blessing, with her at Bran's bed the entire day it had fallen on Rob to lead Winterfell alone care for his little brother, they had helped him as good as possible. Rickon, her poor child she hadn't had time for had tend to his new brother-in-law over his stay. He found the little Lord funny, with his jests and wit. But Cat had had to lecture Lord Tyrion to control his jests so they would be appropriate for a boy of Rickon's age. Not wanting to offend her he had complied.

The little Lord had spent time with Rickon, had helped him to understand all the same as he had helped Rob ruling Winterfell, he had provided advice, experience. Both things Cat had failed because of her grief. Sansa on the other hand had taken Cat's duties in Winterfell on her shoulder. If she hadn't prayed with her at Bran's bed during the nights or brought her food. Sansa had always urged her to eat.

The Lannister men had stayed as well some of them had filled the ranks of Winterfell after Ned had left until Northerner had been found. Cat had heard some of them even married northern girls during the now three months they were here. And she suspected most people didn't want them to go because they filled the pockets of the villagers.

Maester Luwin on the other hand most likely wanted them to go, even if he would never admit it. Lord Tyrion ruled the Westerlands from Winterfell, what meant that dozens of raven's arrived every day and dozens were sent back south. But sadly Cat knew this couldn't go forever sometime soon he and Sansa would have to go back. The only reason they stayed was that Sansa thought she was needed, what was the truth, and Lord Tyrion did what she wished, no matter what.

In the steady stream of ravens for him there had also been some for her as well. It seemed that since Sansa and her husband had visited her home Winterfell had become much more interesting for the Lords of the Westerlands. Like the visit had been to acknowledge that Sansa was on good terms with her family marriage proposals flooded the castle. Lords wanting to marry their daughters to Robb, Rickon and even Bran, despise his condition had sent letters as well as questions if Winterfell would be interested at some wards. Cat shouldn't be surprised, after all the Westerlands had a certain reputation to create greedy Lords.

There had even been some proposals for Jon Snow, or so she had heart. Cat was relieved the bastard would leave the castle for good, the only downside was that his departure would mean Sansa's as well.

But for Cat everything had changed when the man had come and tried to kill her poor child in his sleep. She had tried to stop him and had received named injury at her hand. Bran's wolf had been the one that had stopped him. Cat hadn't been sure about the beasts Ned had the boys bring to Winterfell first. Their howling had driven her nearly mad. Rob had called it singing but for her it had been horrible.

But the wolf had killed the attacker, had protected her baby. Now Cat had the duty to find out who he had been, she had only one clue, the expensive dagger out of valerian steel with dragon bone hilt. She had starred at the weapon the man had wanted to use to bring her son 'mercy', so he had called it, for hours.

Now looking up she saw that Sansa was arriving her small husband at her hand. Cat had allowed her to bring him because, if she was honest she trusted him, simply because she trusted Sansa who trusted him and his man had helped to extinguish the fire at the library and since the attack they strengthened the guards of the castle. He actually had never given her a reason to mistrust him, or Sansa's trust in him.

Now they were complete, Robb, Sansa, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, Lord Lannister, Theon and Jon Snow. They had to discuss what to do next, but Cat had already made her decision she would travel to King's Landing to Ned and tell him what had happened.

"Mother!" Robb objected after she had told them about what had happened, together with her knowledge about the letter and what she intended to do. "What is with Bran and Rickon, they need you."

"I have done what I could and I have to travel south." She answered him, bound and determined. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell so you can't go." She explained her eldest son who didn't look very happy but gave in.

"We could go." Lord Tyrion suddenly offered in the circle, causing that everybody fixed him with their eyes. He just stood there, with a serious face looking like a child compared to Sansa at his side. "We had already planned to visit King's Landing in the near future. Nobody would suspect second thoughts. And if there really is a party responsible at Jon Arryn's death we would look less suspicious than you my Lady." Cat hated to admit that he was right, but she had to go, she had been there at the attack.

"It wouldn't cause any trouble mother, really." Sansa backed up her husband, nodding but with a sad expression.

"No, I have to go." Cat insisted, with a tone that state the discussion was over. Lord Tyrion looked like he wanted to say something but Cat witnessed how Sansa tugged his hand and he closed his mouth before a tone had the chance to escape it. Cat looked around and met the eyes of Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik and Robb, she could see they weren't happy but understood it was hopeless to say more. Theon and Jon Snow stood silent in different corners not participating in the discussion.

"I will escort you my Lady. You can't travel alone." Ser Rodrick said, stepping forward.

"Thank you, but nobody else." She said to Ser Rodrik Cassel before turning to Sansa and her husband. She had to ask another sacrifice of them. "I know I demand much but I must ask you to stay longer." She said, her eyes at them. Cat knew well what she demanded of them, Lord Tyrion had already enough of all this. A quick glance at Robb revealed that he looked away. Cat feared she had offended him by implying he wouldn't be able to be on his own, what hadn't been the reason for her request. But after all it would be better for Rickon and Bran, as soon as he woke up, to have Sansa around them and even if she didn't like to admit Lord Tyrion as well. And the castle was safer with all the Lannister soldiers around it together with another wolf.

"We will stay, as long as needed." Sansa assured her, not even bothering to look down at her husband to ask permission.

"We will my Lady." He confirmed Sansa's words not even flinching.

"So it will be" she said and dismissed them.

While the rest left Sansa stayed behind, waving her husband away and approached her mother. She didn't wear such an expensive gown as usual but her extensive jewellery's jingling still echoed in the Godswood. Her daughter looked worried, she played with her folded hands in front of her.

"You really should have let us go to the capital. It's dangerous and…" Cat interrupted her by putting her hand on Sansa's shoulder. She could feel her child was in distress so she gave her an empathic smile.

"I need you here to look after Rickon and Bran, and Robb in a certain way." Cat explained her and took Sansa in her embrace. "They will need you."

"No, they need you." Sansa was near tears so Cat tightened her embrace whispered in her ear.

"But I must go." She backed up a bit and looked in her daughter's face. Her auburn hair fell across her features and her eyes looked a bit puffy. So Cat smiled again and said: "See it as a sort of training for when you have children of your own."

-##-

"I am afraid I don't know whose dagger this is." The perfumed eunuch said apologizing offered her the dagger back. Cat's hope sunk by his words.

She had made it to King's Landing without incident, using a galley for the journey from White Harbour right to the capitol. She had already worried about how to inform Ned that she was in the city without letting anybody know that she was here when she had been intercepted by Petyr's men and had been escorted to this brothel of his.

Cat shouldn't have been surprised that her old friend had known that she had been on her way. Petyr had always been cunning. She had to admit that she had first wanted to slap him for bringing her into a brothel but he had explained it would be the best and when he had fetched Ned everything had been forgotten. Cat had been so glad to see him again, being in her husband's arms the only thing she longed more was to see Arya but this had to wait and Petyr had offered help she couldn't refuse. As had the eunuch, Lord Varys, when he had arrived in his colourful robes. She had told them from the attack on Bran and of the dagger but to her disappointment the spider, who was supposed to know everything had no clue about it.

"What a day my friend, I know something you don't" Petyr surprised them all by speaking. He passed her and Ned who stood at her side, carefully listening, and took the dagger out of Varys's hand.

"You know whose dagger this is?" Cat asked hopeful stepping closer to her old friend.

"Yes there is only one dagger like this in the Kingdoms." He explained her with a sad smile. "It is mine." By the words Cat had to clap her hand above her mouth and she starred at him in shock. "Or better it had been mine." He added quickly bowing slightly.

Now Catelyn gave him a curious and confused look and pleaded with her eyes he should continue.

"I lost it" he stated calmly, tracing over his beard. "At prince Joffrey's Nameday. I had my gold, or better the dagger bet on the Kingslayer but the Knight of the Flowers beaten him in the joust and I lost it." He held the dagger up to her and Ned. Cat had taken a step back and gripped Ned's arm in anxiousness to learn who the owner of the dagger was, while he took it.

"Against who did you lost?" She asked him with a weak voice.

"The Imp, I am afraid." He said, giving her an apologizing smile. "I knew it must be hard to learn that one out of your own family, the husband of your daughter seeks your son's life." He gave his condolence but Cat knew one thing now: he lied. Petyr lied in her face and if she wouldn't have known that Lord Tyrion had lost the bet against Petyr she would have believed it. "I always knew what a monster he is, that is why I tried to stop the wedding but sadly I failed." He continued but Cat didn't listen anymore. He had lied. Cat had never imagined him to lie to her, especially in this matter and then so unabashed. Cat had spent months with Lord Tyrion and she couldn't believe he would harm Bran, simply because of Sansa. But her believe wasn't as much evidence as her talk with Sansa she had had months ago. She had explained how Petyr had won named bet against her husband, she had had no reason to lie to her. The only explanation that would allow Petyr's words to stand would be that Sansa had lied to her and that would mean she would be involved in the plot of Bran's assassination and that Catelyn would never believe.

She tightened her grip around Ned's arm, anger, no wrath boiling up in her. She had trusted Petyr had planned to beg his forgiveness for whatever Sansa had said to him during the tournament. But he had betrayed her, cold as ice. But Cat decided to let him continue, to lull him into a false sense of security until she knew what he really wanted. While Ned stood there stoic as always she fought the urge to beat Littlefinger. She hoped her feelings would be seen as distress about the allegedly betrayal of her son in law from his side.

"For some time now I suspect the Lannisters behind good Jon Arryn's death." Petyr stepped closer to her and took one of her hands, Cat had her problems not to flinch or to slap him right there, but he couldn't know she knew he had lied, not yet at least. "I am so sorry for your girl Cat, for her to be in their claws now." He told her caring with an apologetic sad smile. "If I can do anything my service will be yours." Cat couldn't believe how false her former friend was, how persuasive his performance was. "I will do all in my power to help you Lord Stark."

"Thank you Petyr." She choked out "You are a true friend." She untangled her hand from his and thanked him again before letting the silent Ned, whose face turned into a stony mask guided her out.

Out of the sticky brothel she dragged Ned in a corner where nobody could hear them and pressed herself against him. He looked shattered, Cat could imagine why, he had married Sansa to Lord Tyrion. She guided her hand to his face and whispered.

"You can't trust him." He looked utterly bewildered by her words and so she continued: "Littlefinger lied. I have spoken with Sansa some time ago and she told me that her husband never bets against his family, especially his brother and that he had lost against Petyr during the tournament. There was no reason it hadn't been the truth"

By her words Ned's face suddenly changed from a guilty sad mask to anger. Cat could feel how he wanted to make a dart for Petyr but she hold him where he stood, not letting him go.

"Why would he lie?" Ned asked after a moment, he hadn't calmed down but Cat saw how he controlled his anger, something Cat had a hard time herself at the moment. "What does he gain by…"

"I don't know. That is why you can't let him know." She explained him, seeing him raise his eyebrow. "After all he said he wants to drive a wedge between between us and Lord Tyrion, between us and the Lannisters. Don't let it happen Ned." She said urgent, pressing herself more at her husband. She knew he wouldn't consider it as honourable but it wasn't dishonourable as well so she hoped he wouldn't do anything without proof.

"What do you think shall I do?" He asked her clearly searching for a way in this snake pit of city.

"When I am back at Winterfell I will talk with Lord Tyrion, if he knows what this is about." She wasn't very eager to do so but her son-in-law knew more about schemes then she did, or Ned. "You should talk with his siblings, maybe they knew a way. I know you don't like the Kingslayer but whatever Petyr wants it can't be good." She observed his clearly revulsion to team up with Jaime Lannister so she added: "Sansa had said we are one family now, at least try and don't let Petyr or anybody else know unless you know what is going on."

"I know, we have no proof and it can be dangerous." Ned nodded defeated.

"Yes and whatever you do. Don't trust Petyr." She empathised her last sentences and kissed her husband, hoping he would be safe. "Keep safe and watch out."

"And you, with the temper of yours." He smiled at her and traced her jawline with his finger.

"My temper? You nearly killed Littlefinger." she said back, briefly thinking it perhaps would have been for the better if he had done. But whatever, Petyr would pay for his lie and the try to whatever he had tried.

* * *

**So now my little bit of crazy begins, hope you are anxious for more**

**I could justify so much, Sansa, Cat but why?**

**You will see all of you stick with the story**

**Timeline clear?**

**Long chapter, don't get used to it ;)**

**Hope you like it and review**

**BTW: This update doesn't meant there won't be one sunday**


	9. Ned II

**Unbetaed but I will update, promise**

**I own nothing at all, I wish to but sadly I don't**

* * *

Sansa

_The night after the tournament of prince Joffrey's Nameday_

Their bed-chamber was illuminated by dozens of little candles swimming in golden basins filled with sweet smelling lavender-oil and water. Sansa wasn't able to stand the smell that seems to be soaked into every part of the capitol. It was nothing like the primal smell of Winterfell and the North or the salty breezes that every day perfumed the air of Casterly Rock coming from the sunset sea. So against the nauseating smell of King's Landing Sansa had ordered the servants to arrange the oil, she had always liked the smell of lavender and the basins had the nice side-effect to dip the bedchamber in a romantic light.

Sansa cuddled nearer to Tyrion and rested her head against his shoulders. The night was warm so their blanked only reached to his hip letting his naked chest uncovered. Sansa had forego on any cover at all, for her it was just too warm in the south. Maybe if she had wanted she would have built up the illusion to like it, formerly she would have done so just because it wasn't Winterfell but now she had no need for that. Sansa liked it a bit crisp and to her everlasting liking the caves of the Rock provided exactly what she liked, in difference to the capital.

Tyrion was the only source of heat she needed in the night and so she smiled when he guided his strong arm around her. Deep in the moment she started to circle with her long fingers of her left hand around his chest, twisting his golden hair between them. Simultaneous she pulled her long legs up under the blanked and lied them across her small husband's stumbled legs.

It had taken so long for her to find such delight in his embrace that it seemed for her now that she couldn't get enough. First she had been all too afraid of him, even disgusted by his features. But even if not she had been a scared maid married to a man she hadn't know. Sansa had known he had known and that had been even worse. But in time she hadn't minded any longer, her Septa had once told her all men would be handsome on their own way, it had only taken Sansa a bit longer to find this handsomeness in Tyrion.

They had had so many obstacles to conquer, her shyness, her uncertainty and her feeling of being betrayed by her own father. On Tyrion's side he had to change his ways as well, getting used to be married had had to learn what it meant not to be alone any longer. But they had done it together and now Sansa couldn't imagine life without Tyrion.

"You are tense." She observed, feeling it through his arm around her as well as his unsteady breathing. She shared the same bed with him for two years now, she knew his body as well as her own. "Is it because your brother lost?" She asked him turning her head to the side to look in his face. Shadows danced around his features, anybody else would have found them sinister but not for her. "Is it because you lost so much money against Lord Baelish?"

He barked out a laughter by her question and placed a kiss on her forehead before he answered, his voice down.

"No, I don't mind the money. I mean yes I did but this is not so much what bothers me. It is eh..." He suddenly sat up braced his back against the headboard of the bed. Sansa exhaled a grunt of displeasure because he had broken their embrace and had sacrificed their comfortable position. She wanted to grumble but then she saw the serious expression in his face. She looked at him questioning, braced on her own hands on the mattress. Slowly and in a voice that sounded almost sad he said: "But Littlefinger is the reason, or at least a part of it."

"Are you angry with me?" Sansa asked embarrassed, leaning forward what caused her long auburn hair to fall over his body. Concerned over the words she had spoken to the Master of Coins earlier that day, remembering that she had regretted the words shortly later.

"As if I could be angry with." He said smiling to her, scattering her concerns before cupping her chin and leaning to her, face to face. "I actually quite impressed by your words. I knew there is a wolf in you but I thought you preferred it sleeping."

Sansa quickly shoot out and placed a kiss on his lips before backing up and grinning wide in his face. "The wolf does not sleep always and Baelish had it coming."

"I pictured so much but my concern is what had woken the wolf in the first place." Tyrion said darkening the mood again. Sansa gave him a sour expression, she knew exactly where he headed. He had already lectured her what he thought about his sister, something Sansa dismissed to be simple sibling rivalry, something she had had with Arya in Winterfell but far more escalated. For her it seemed both Tyrion and Cersei hadn't been able to put this aside. Even Jaime had told her about it and how he always stood in the middle between them. But Cersei had been nothing than nice to her and even more she was a real Queen. It was only between these two.

"Your sister had only given me an advice." She said to her husband, bringing some sternness in her voice. "She is like a big sister to me and I won't stop taking her advice because you two, my dear, still have issues." She let out a puff of air and looked him up and down while pointing between his eyes with her finger. He was quiet, just sitting there, out of the lack of a response she added: "Maybe I should talk with Jaime so we lock you two up in a room as long as it's needed so you two can figure out, whatever it is you have between you."

"I am afraid Jaime won't like your idea and you won't like it too, because of the outcome." He explained smirking, amused he added: "Simply because only one of us would step out of the room and I have no idea who of us it would be." Sansa gave him a doubting look and wanted to say something but he held up his hand and said: "But back to the topic. What you, my love, not understand is that Cersei isn't your friend. Even if the pure fact that the Rock isn't hers wouldn't stand between us. If you reach out for her, if anybody reach out for her she will perceive a chance to take advantage of the situation and the poor fellow, to her benefit. Offer your hand and she will step on it to reach only a little higher. Yes she can be kind, seductive but that's all just an act. For her you are not family, but if you act like that she will stab you in the back as soon as you fulfilled your purpose. For her, all who are not herself and maybe Jaime and the children are enemies or weak minions to use. I am proud to say I count to the enemy group. Don't be a minion Sansa, be careful."

Sansa had listened to his speech and now glared at him in disapproval. She loved him but sometimes he had some crazy, paranoid ideas, especially concerning his sister. They were siblings not mortal enemies. Sansa had no idea why he didn't trust his sister but Sansa wouldn't give in into this eccentricity. But she had also to admit that the Cersei had mutual feelings towards him, she just kept them to herself, so it wasn't all his fault both of them were just like children in this particular area.

Crossing her arms over her bare breasts she showed him unambiguous what she thought about his words. They stayed like this for some time, he starring at her pleading for her comprehension and she not moving.

"Fine." He breathed out abandoning the field and throwing up his hands. "But mark my words: I will say 'I told you' the day I stop her from stabbing you in the back. Maybe I will order a statue of me, fifty foot high with the index finger pointed down and a stern expression, inscribed: I told you so."

Sansa broke out in giggle when he mimicked his future statue Sansa was sure never to be existing. Carried by the lightened mood she let herself fall on him and snuggled up to him again. A warm feeling spread through her when he lied his arm around her again, savouring the moments she closed her eyes and listened to his breathing.

"So" She started after she had made the most of the moment, "You don't take offence in me threatening people?" She joked, and was sure her grin already betrayed it to him.

"Offence? No. I kind of like it, but there is one thing you should consider." He spoke in a half serious tone, his deep voice hitching some words.

"And what is that?" She asked, her eyes still closed and lying on his chest, her hands holding his small frame. She had the feeling she could lie there forever in the illuminating, room smelling lavender and him.

"The people should fear the Imp. The malicious Imp of Casterly Rock." He reached around her head with his hand and tapped on the tip of her nose. "And they should come to you to placate the monster. Be the fair Lady in control of the monster, and let me play the part I seem to master so good."

"You are no monster Tyrion, I know you to well."

-##-

Ned

Ned turned the dagger which had been intended to kill his son in his hands. It was an expensive piece, valyrian steel and dragon bone, not the weapon of a commoner. It worried him very much, the thought that somebody would seek Bran's life and that Lord Baelish had lied to him about it, for reasons he couldn't understand.

Was he jealous because Ned had married Cat? Had he wanted just to be spiteful or was there more he couldn't see? Ned didn't like it, so much secrets, scheming and the lack of honour in this city, the North was much simpler, better.

Sighing heavy he leaned back in his seat, his eyes wandering through his new solar in the tower of the hand. The room was hot, the southern sun shined heavy in the room, the curtains didn't help at all and Ned was yearning back the cold North. His desk was full with paperwork, parchments, letters, reports, bills. Robert had left the realm in a state Ned wasn't sure if he was able to fix. And now he had also Baelish, who seemingly worked against him and that meant he would have to inaugurate the Queen and her brother, something he didn't look forward to.

But Baelish had crossed a line, he had tried to turn him against the Lannisters. Ned had felt so betrayed and now he felt guilty. At first he had believed Lord Baelish when he had told Cat and him Lord Tyrion would be the man who had sought Bran's life. Ned had spent months with Lord Tyrion at Winterfell, had seen how good he treated Sansa and still in the moment everything had been gone. Maybe it had been the fact that he still remembered the Targaryen children in the red cloaks. Like father like son, that was what the folk said. Somehow Ned still believed inside of him, no matter what he had seen, that the little Lord would blink and turn into his father. Ned had felt guiltier about giving Sansa to him rather than scrutinise Baelish's words.

When Cat had revealed him that Baelish had lied he had wanted to strangle him. Ned had acted as would he be Brandon, his brother, dead for so long, but Cat was right, they needed to know why. But Ned felt guilty now, he had put the word of a man like Baelish, a man he didn't know above the honour of his son-in-law, Ned had come to know so well.

I hindsight that had been stupid, he could have imagined that the man with a scar inflicted by Brandon and a broken heart or unfilled longing for Cat would seek some sort of payback. Ned had sworn to himself to be more careful in King's Landing from now on.

A knock at the door startled him out of his self-pity. Who could it be, everybody was at the tournament, this expense Robert had insisted on. Ned hadn't been very keen to participate, or seeing his friend drinking himself in an early grave.

Robert had changed so much, out of the man that was like a brother to him, strong and full of life had become a drunken, whoring King without any interest of ruling like he would be weary of it. But then Ned had to admit Robert had always whored. Turning his attention to the door he set all this thoughts aside.

Jory opened the door and wanted to announce a visitor when the Queen walked pass him in the middle of the room and Ned quickly raised from his set to greet her.

"The Queen my Lord." Jory announced futile, looking still a bit surprised by the lioness straight forwardness.

"Thank you Jory." Ned nodded towards the captain of his guard who bowed quickly and closed the door behind him. So Ned turned to the Queen, she was standing in front of him in all her beauty, hands folded. "Your grace."

"You missing your tournament my Lord." She said with a raised eyebrow while Ned offered her a seat at his desk and sat back down.

"Putting my name on it doesn't make it mine, your grace." Cersei Lannister sat gracefully down and leaned back in the chair, not losing her elegance.

"Sure." She smiled wide but fixed him with her cold eyes, her voice not betraying amusement or anything else. Ned eyed her carefully but avoided to look in the green pools her eyes were. "I am here in the hope we could let this ugly business with the wolf behind us."

Ah, yes, the wolf. Arya's wolf Nymeria had attacked the prince on the road. Prince Joffrey had suffered a nasty bite but was fine. The wolf had been away the time his man had found Arya in the woods. Queen Cersei had raged and demanded the fur of Nymeria and Robert had given in, but the wolf hadn't been found, the butcher's boy that had been present hadn't such a luck.

Arya had claimed Joffrey had started the fight but it had been her word against the prince's. It had only made her more reluctant of her future husband and Ned feared that this would all go terrible wrong, especially since he had arranged 'dancing lessons' for her.

"I am not sure if I am the one to talk about it and not the butcher." Ned said, sadness in his eyes, he hated it when children had to suffer, no matter why. Suddenly he had the flash of a memory, Bran lying on his bed, wrapped in furs. His son, and his gaze wandered to the dagger in front of him before returning to the Queen.

"The length we go through to protect our children." She justified herself, averting her eyes so Ned could nearly believe she felt guilty but he could see she didn't. "I am sure you can understand that Lord Stark." Her pointed gaze fixed him again, her face serious and hard.

"I understand very well what you mean." Ned's finger ghosted absently over the dagger dragging the Queen's attention to it. Ned looked up in her face and decided now was as good as any time to reveal his knowledge to her. She could talk to her brother then. "Speaking of our children." He intoned and moved the dagger towards her, letting it rest at the edge of his desk. "Somebody tried to kill my son Bran with this blade."

Cersei Lannister looked taken aback by his statement, for a moment she looked distressed and tense but quickly she found her old composure back smiling compassionate at him.

"I am sorry to hear that." She picked up the dagger and inspected it in her hands. She gripped the hilt and freed the blade out of the sheet. "Say me, I recall no such event while we were at Winterfell. Why do you have the weapon here now?"

"One of my man brought it with the message to me." Ned hedged the question, he didn't found it wise to reveal that Cat had been in the city. But according to the Queen's doubtful look she knew that he had lied. He was a really bad liar.

"I see." The lioness took in a breath and placed the dagger back on the desk. "And why do you let me in into this secret." She asked smiling conspiratorially with a mocking expression.

"Because I was told your brother would have sent the assassin as well as you and your brother would have murdered Jon Arryn." Ned answered her question, coming right out with it. The Queen's smile suddenly fainted out of her face, her lips were pressed together and her gaze was colder that a northern winter night. Ned saw her folded hands tensing up, her breath quickened and when she started to look like she would yell at him he quickly added: "I know it's a lie."

"Ah." She exhaled, finding back her former exterior but Ned hadn't a hard time to see that she boiled inside. He could even understand it. "Tell me, Lord Stark, who is so foolish telling lies about my family?" She asked him calm but her voice was tense, cold.

"I brought the dagger to Lord Baelish…"

"Petyr Baelish?" She interrupted him, a murderous glare in her eyes, in difference to her sweet voice. She had known exactly who he had meant, it was more like she wanted assurance before a kill. But Ned hold up his hand in a calming gesture and tried to explain.

"He had offered his help, claiming because of his friendship to my wife." The Queen snorted by his words, and Ned now knew how foolish it had been to trust a man who had once fought for Cat. "He said the dagger would have been in the possession of your brother. He said he would have lost it in a bet against Lord Tyrion in the tournament of prince Joffrey's Nameday. He then accused your brother as well as accusing you murdering Jon Arryn."

"My brother has many bad traits but he would never bet against Jaime." The Queen lectured him with knowledge he already possessed. "And if you observed him you have learned that he your daughters pet. I doubt he has an urge to kill your son, as much as I never had an urge to kill old Jon Arryn."

"I know, that's why I know Lord Baelish lied to me and why I didn't trust his word when he told me Jon Arryn would have been murdered by Lannisters. The man has no honour and his word are worthless" The Queen seemed annoyed by him now.

"How good for you and now say me, why isn't his head on a spike yet?" Cersei sounded more like she wanted to see Baelish's tormented body on a hook, but only for a brief moment. Ned wasn't sure if he just saw the real Cersei Lannister or just an outburst of anger. If he wouldn't have known better he would have suspected some wolf's blood in her.

"He plots against us both, tries to torn us apart." Ned explained her. "Maybe it would be better to know his agenda before we act. And he doesn't know I know" Ned took a deep breath and looked straight into the Queens green eyes, feeling the tension in the room. "As I remember we are a family now and we must face this threat together."

"So it seems." She smiled again at him, but clearly uncertain where he went.

"And as such it would be wise to bundle our power to discover the truth, work together."

"Trust each other?" She asked unbelieving, crocking her head to the side.

"Your brother is married to my daughter that makes us somehow a family. For the sake of our family, yes." Ned stated serious, observing the Queen closely.

Queen Cersei Lannister looked like a cat who had just found an unprotected bird she smiled friendly at him nodding in agreement.

"I couldn't agree more." Cersei leaned forward to him. "I am sure we will make a good team." She assured him warmly, a clear opposite to the person she had been moments before. "I will talk with Jaime about it and be assured he will be delighted about it."

Ned heavily doubted that, since he had met the Kingslayer again he had sought confrontation with Ned. Leaning back Ned sighed and looked back at the Queen who had a grin in her face that somehow remembered him of her brother sitting in the Iron throne, the mad King's blood all over him.

"Thank you your grace." He replied sincere and added. "I will see where Lord Baelish tries to guide me and we will hopefully uncover his plans."

"I am all with you my Lord. We must stand together for the good of the realm." Cersei Lannister assured him and reached out with her hand for his. "And be assured I will do what is necessary for _our_ family."

Ned sighed again and tried to think of Cat while her warm soft hand rested on his, slowly pulling it away he said:

"We will have to be careful so he won't learn of this."

"You have no idea where you live now, have you?" The Queen laughed out, covering her mouth. "Don't worry I will show you." She looked at him empathetic

Ned had a bad feeling about all this. But somebody plotted against the realm, against his family, duty and honour demanded of him to put an end to it, even if he wanted nothing more than to be back home, in Winterfell.

* * *

**Hope you like it, soon there will be more Cersei, I hope I got her right**

**Please review**

**Still not an uncle, yet**


	10. Bran II

**My beta has a tight schedule at the moment so I am afraid you must suffer un-betaed for the moment**

**I own nothing**

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Tyrion

_One year in their marriage_

Enjoying the light giggles out of Sansa's direction Tyrion carefully continued with his massage of her bare feet. He savoured the moment of bliss and peace he had right now, in contrast to the rather stressfully days as Lord of the Westerlands.

It was a fresh but clear evening in Casterly Rock. The waves of the Sunset Sea crashed against the cliffs and echoed in the grottos and goldmines beneath the part of the mountain where the castle of his ancestors were driven into the hard stone.

Sansa and he had retreated in their quarters after supper with family and household, to enjoy the rest of the evening in solitude of the rest of the castle. A crackling fire was lit in the granite fireplace the golden decorations shimmering in the light. They sat on a long cushioned bench under the great south window with the view over the bright alit Lannisport.

Sansa laid stretched out on the generous bench, her back braced against one of the heavy armrests, her long elegant legs stretched away from her. She wore a beautiful silken blue gown that shimmered in the firelight which also illuminated her long auburn hair red and gold. Her head lied back on a cushion while she marvelled the city, occasionally sipping at her cup of wine which she hold in her right hand.

Tyrion sat on the other side of the couch, upright against the rest and the window. He had Sansa's feet in his lap and absently massaged them, sometimes tracing over her legs up to her knees where he had banned the end of her gown. He really liked the entire scene, he had his doublet unbuttoned and he had banned his shoes as well. It felt relaxing and Sansa's presence alone was enough for him to want to stay so forever.

He looked still unbelieving about everything that had happened over the last year, at his beautiful wife, how she was visibly unbent and satisfied, dreamingly looking over the city. Tyrion still didn't know how he deserved her.

Sansa was perfect, lovely and intelligent, a combination Tyrion would have never expected with a woman who was interested in him. But he had to admit it had been a long way to this point, where they could just sitting in their chambers doing nothing but keeping each other company, without the awkward silence or hollow courtesies.

In the beginning, nearly a year ago, Tyrion had felt so bad for her, she had been dragged into the schemes of westerosi politics, just because she had been born into the right house at the right time she had had to marry him. Tyrion hadn't been able to stop this madness, not without risking his position and the position of his house and like his aunt had said it was his responsibility to hold the position.

Bound by his duty and unable to avoid the marriage, caused by a foolish King and a group of greedy idiots, he had promised himself that he would at least do all in his powers to make this farce bearable for his unwilling bride. Tyrion had started with forbidding the wedding and letting her the choice to share his bed, so or so he wouldn't have forced her, but the highborn Ladies in Westeros were trained to do their duty if they want or not so Tyrion had announced that he wouldn't share her bed as long as she needed time to want it to, if ever. Tyrion would have accepted her decision if she would have never wanted to lie with him, he even would have been able to tolerate to become celibate, or at least that was what he thought of himself. But he wouldn't have liked it, since his father's death he hadn't visited brothels anymore, because of the Lord he was and the reputation he had to hold. Genna had been very clear about that and he had promised not to fail, he owned this debt to the death, and a Lannister pays his debts.

Sansa had been really surprised about the power above their marriage-life she had gotten from him, she had been dumbfounded and Tyrion nearly had chuckled about her expression. The long-time effect of it had even surprised him, her father shaking his hand for example. But more important it had destroyed her picture of him as the lusty Imp for good.

And Tyrion hadn't been finished with that, he had done all he had been able to to letting her know that she could trust him. It hadn't been hard, actually, she was a really trusting person, something Tyrion worried about sometimes.

But this hadn't been enough, she had hid behind courtesies during the first weeks of the marriage. He had understood, she wasn't in Casterly Rock because she had wanted to, so Tyrion had needed time to carefully break her shell. He had talked with her, asked what she liked, he had come to know her and it had revealed more than he had imagined.

She was beautiful yes, when her father had brought her to the Rock, Tyrion hadn't already been able to forbear to want a beauty like her, to want to love her, but there was more. Behind her exterior, behind the stories of knights and the needle work was an incredible intelligent woman, even if she hadn't known it herself back then. By discovering that her mind was as extraordinary as her look he had wanted her even more, more than he had ever wanted anything else.

In time she had warmed up to him, the secret had been to make her talk and then engaging in a conversation with her, Tyrion had figured that out himself. He was very proud of himself for that, the westerosi way was normally producing heirs until she liked you or broke, respectively hoping she came to love you just because you were her husband. But they belonged to the small circle where it was different, over the conversation about stories, history and even the smell of wine hey had grown together, became lovers and more.

Tyrion had already been madly in love with her after a fortnight, doing all her bidding just to see her smile. Sansa had needed a bit longer, but now Tyrion was sure she loved him, all her acts, her behaviour were already enough without her sweet words or the look in her blue eyes, Tyrion was sure. They belonged to each other, depended on each other and it felt right.

"Hugh" A small snort of displeasure escaped her that made Tyrion immediately attentive. He looked up from her feet seeing her slightly grimacing before fitfully releasing her feet. Apparently he had pressured a bit too hard with his fingers. He gave her an apologetic look but instead of saying something she smiled nearly simultaneously and lifted one of her feet to lightly kick his face in a playful matter. The delicate golden chain around her ankle clatter while her sole scraping over his cheek. It was some new fashion from Lys, something rich women apparently wore at the feet. Tyrion didn't understand it but Sansa loved all what was beautiful, exotic or both and if she liked it, Tyrion had no intention to deny her everything she wanted. After all he was the richest man in the seven Kingdoms and whatever Sansa wanted was hers. "Careful. Don't you think you tormented my feet enough for one day?" She playfully teased him.

Encouraged by her smile Tyrion grabbed her feet and placed a kiss on the underside, tickling her with his tongue. Her giggling was more than enough to continue but she was right, he had tormented her feet enough for one day.

He had once again taken her on a tour through the caves beneath the Rock, showing her all the secret ponds, lakes and pebble beaches in the dark together with the old mines and secret hideaways. Casterly Rock was enormous, the second biggest castle in Westeros and so even with him showing her everything since the first week of their marriage, he wasn't finished yet. Not to mention that he liked it to be alone with her in the caves, especially since they found together as man and wife. Admitted, first they had just kissed innocently, a touch from time to time, and even that after weeks of awkwardness. But in time it had become more and more. And the lakes were very isolated and not as cold as one might think.

He put her feet back on his lap, ignoring his own stiffness in the legs and continued to massage her feet more gently than before. It didn't take long until he felt them relax under his touch again. He was applauding himself for his talented finger in his mind when he heard a sigh from Sansa. Turning his head again he found her starring out of the window, the firelight gave her a sad expression.

"What is wrong Sansa?" Tyrion asked concerned, he changed his position a bit, careful not to lose her feet but then to his dread Sansa pulled her legs from him and tugged them underneath her. She looked melancholic, Tyrion didn't like it.

"It's nothing…it's just…forget it, it's stupid" She tried to explain him, averting her gaze to her cup. Knowing very well it wasn't stupid at all Tyrion grabbed his own cup of wine and took a long gulp before crawling up to her, seating himself right beside her.

"I like stupid things." He offered her, while cupping her chin gently, he lifted her face up to look at it. "Just tell me. Please."

"Bran would love the caves. He could climb in every one of them." Sansa nearly whispered in the room, sadness in her voice. "He loves all this kinds of excitement, climbing, ridding. Maybe that's why he wants to be a knight one day." Tyrion felt a bang in his heart hearing her so sad, she wasn't supposed to be sad, she was supposed to laugh, smile, being happy, but her eyes glittered with tears threatening to fall free. Tyrion cupped her cheek and traced her pale skin with his thump in the attempt to calm her.

Her family was always a difficult topic, it had taken very long for her to talk about them at all. About her four brothers and the sister she had bickering with, about her parents and her home. Tyrion knew she missed them, he could understand that, even with the friends she had found under his cousins and the constant workload of a Lady, only interrupted by time with him, the fact that her family was two month travel away was hard for her. Tyrion wouldn't like anything more than bringing them together again but in the moment he had to stay in the Westerlands, maybe in a year or so there could be an opportunity for them to head north.

"You once said I would like them, do you still think so?" Tyrion asked, knowing she had come to know him better and better over the last month. He wanted to make her talk in the hope it would help.

"I am sure, if you make an effort." She said smiling weakly and reached out with her hand to play with his hair.

"I have to work!" Tyrion faked annoyance and let his head fall back in a childish gesture. "Why so difficult?" His theatrical manner caused a giggle from her and Tyrion ceased the moment and placed his head in her lap, making himself comfortable. Looking up at her he said serious: "I will make them like me then."

"You better will." She smiled mischievous at him before leaning forward and kissed him upside down. The quick moment of sorrow was away but now more than ever Tyrion was determined to do all what would be needed to win her family, because of her.

Bran

A knock, Bran sat up in his bed, the heavy furs falling around him. It was cold outside, he felt it in his bones even through the furs. But not in all his bones, he couldn't feel his legs and it pained him.

It had been five days since he had woken up. It had been a shock, he couldn't remember what had happened. He had climbed up the old tower and from then on everything was blank.

Weeks had gone in the land and then he had woken up in his bed, his father was away, mother was away and Arya was away. And he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

He had panicked after waking up, screamed and tried to reach his legs but he had been too weak. Only thanks to Sansa who had waited at his bedside he had calmed down. She had hold his hand had whispered reassuring words in his ear and had stayed with him the entire time. Bran had been confused, he had asked where mother had been and only received a sad look from his sister.

It had been Maester Luwin who had broken the words to him that he most likely would never walk again. It had shattered Bran, how could his life be without legs?

He had wanted his mother, but she had abandoned him, no matter what Sansa or Robb said, she had let him alone. Bran was angry, disappointed and scared all at once. He had nearly cried, he had nearly cried a lot over the last days but he was ten by now, old enough to be a man and man didn't cry.

He had dreamed during his sleep, he had only remembered later and the knowledge hadn't helped him at all. A three eyed crow telling him to fly, saying darkness would come, that had been his dreams, but he remembered the words of old Nan: 'All crows are liar'. But Bran feared they hadn't been just dreams, more dark heralds.

Sansa had called them dreams, as well as Robb or Maester Luwin, only Tyrion had listened to him, promised him to look in his books. But Bran suspected it had only been his way of being nice, faking interest to distract him from his toll, his legs.

He was bound to his bed, only with the help of Hodor he was able to leave the room. But Bran had no idea why he should do so. He was old enough to understand that there was no use for him if he couldn't move his legs. It was worse than being a child, he depended on the others to come to him.

Sansa came, very often actually. Every morning she came to his room, spent time with him, ate with him. She read the stories, her husband had gotten her from across the sea, to him. Stories of great heroes with burning swords or of old Valeria and Ghis, wonderful magic lands in the east, but for Bran the stories only turned bitter in his mouth. He had loved them, but now, without his legs, it were only tales of what he couldn't do or see anymore.

His mood were always fool when Sansa started to read the stories to him but no matter how cranky he was she never stopped, she smiled and continued as if nothing would be. He knew he should feel bad for threatening her so dismissive, but then why should he, he couldn't use his legs, had no use anymore.

In the afternoon Maester Luwin would come for his lessons, but Bran refused to learn, no matter what the Maester did. Not even the sweets he had in his robe could cheer him up. The Maester never gave up to teach him but Bran wouldn't give in, what was the use of him, the boy without legs to learn anyway?

Robb, who sparsely visited him, as much as Sansa did, had tried to get him learning but he was stubborn and hadn't let him through, Sansa's attempts had been futile too.

Jon had tried the same. He visited Bran nearly as much as Sansa, he always came in the afternoon after Maester Luwin had left or when it was time for supper, to fetch him like an infant. They had Hodor to carry Bran down in the hall to eat with them every evening, but Bran hated it, to be carried like a cripple to see the pity in their eyes.

He had asked them, no had demanded the knowledge of them, where mother was but the only thing they had said had been that she had had to leave but would return soon.

Bran didn't believe them, he had the feeling the only one he could count on was Summer, his wolf. The dreams had shown him that night would follow soon and so he had ended his struggle to name his wolf. Summer, that was a good name. He let the wolf sleep with him in his chambers, first there had been objections from Maester Luwin but in the end they had given in, letting him his will.

A second knock on the door. It was after noon so Bran assumed it would be Maester Luwin coming for his next lesson. Bran didn't intended to participate in the Maester's tries to get knowledge in his mind. Bran wouldn't call him in, may he wait forever outside the door.

To Bran's surprise there wasn't a third knock, instead the door was swung open forcefully and with a loud crashing noise collided with the wall. Bran was startled by the sudden intrusion, why would the Maester do such thing. But Bran couldn't see him, the door frame was empty.

Bran tried to brace himself on his arms to get a better view from his high bed but stopped when Summer jumped from his side to the door. Bran heard some 'Gasp!' noises in a deep voice. And then Bran realised who had opened the door.

Leaning over the edge of his bed Bran found his brother-in-law standing in the doorframe, trying to keep Summer at distance who eagerly licked his face.

"Stop it now." He commanded the wolf, trying to keep his lips pressed together while Summer, who was already taller than Tyrion continued to lick his face. A giggle escaped Bran unintentionally by the sight, while Tyrion lifted the book he had with him and used it as a shield between his face and the Summer's muzzle.

"Summer!" Bran saved Tyrion from his ordinal with a single soft spoken word. The wolf obeyed his word immediately, turned away from the small man and jumped back on the bed, approaching Bran and lied down near at his side.

"Thanks for the rescue." Tyrion exhaled, sounding a bit annoyed while drying his face with his sleeve. "I don't know what it is with this wolves of you Starks that they found me so delicious." By Bran's questioning glance he added with a small laugh. "Lady for example tend to lick my face in the nights while I sleep. It seems she likes to tease me. On the other hand your sister did this as well, maybe she and the wolf decided on a division of labour by disturbing my sleep."

Another unwanted giggle escaped Bran, destroying his fool mood, he had cultivated so long. Seemingly pleased by the reaction he had caused Tyrion approached him and climbed on the chair besides Bran's bed, the one Sansa always used, and placed the book on the mattress.

Bran leaned at his backboard and pulled the furs down to his waist to have more freedom with his arms. A quick glance at the title of the book revealed him it was the one Maester Luwin used to teach him. _The history of the seven Kingdoms_ Understanding the intentions Lord Tyrion had followed by coming to him Bran crossed his arms over his chest and glared stubborn at the man. This wouldn't work, might Maester Luwin send him, Bran wouldn't play their stupid game.

Tyrion had visited him often the last days, always together with Sansa and when not, Bran had heard, he had spent much time with Rickon. Both liked him because of his jests and the good mood he had all the time. He might be a Lord like father but he still was so different. Even while talking to his man he often grinned, his tone only stern at occasions. And his face was always the same, father had always two faces, the Lord and the father, like Bran had seen with Robb when he had talked to servants now. Lord Tyrion on the other hand had only one face that changed between stern and friendly some times.

"You don't want to see me with my other face Bran, believe me." He had told Bran when he had asked him months ago, describing his observation. Bran hadn't understood, he still didn't.

But no matter what, Bran wouldn't let his sibling fool him by sending Tyrion to get him learning.

"I am afraid I wasn't able to find something about your dreams yet." Tyrion told him, surprising Bran with the topic. Tyrion leaned forward and with grin added: "But I sent a raven to the Rock for a book on dreams." He smiled encouraging fixating Bran with his eye.

"Will it help?" Bran asked, hoping there would be an answer to his questions, taken off guard by him. Tyrion seemed to be the only one to take him seriously, or at least Bran thought so, he had doubts. After his guard was back up he continued to glare at Tyrion.

"I hope so but this isn't why I am here." Tyrion tapped with his finger on the book. "I came to know you refuse to learn." His tone took a bit darker tone, only slightly. He still sounded friendly but something else was there Bran didn't know what but he was suddenly glad Summer was there. He knew he hadn't anything to fear from Tyrion but still the tone frightened something deep inside Bran. "Being the good husband I am. I decided to burden some of Sansa's worries and make sure you stop acting like a childish fool and start learning again."

"What use would that have?" Bran spat at him, a small knot building in his chest. "What use has it if I learn without having my legs?"

"And what of it?" He asked Bran, opening his arms. "Look at me, I am a stunned, malformed dwarf and still I learned." Bran suddenly felt bad about what he had said, Tyrion was a dwarf yes, Bran tended to forget what that meant, but then what did he knew. He at least could walk.

Like Tyrion had heard his thoughts he waved him nearer conspiratorially. Following his gesture Barn leaned nearer to him and Tyrion whispered:

"Let me tell you a secret." He breathed out before leaning back and continued normal, sounding serious: "Dwarf or not, I am a Lannister of Casterly Rock, even more I am their Lord. But even if not, thing were and are expected from me, like they are from you." Bran listened carefully, giving Tyrion a doubting look, but he continued unswervingly. "If I would have been born a commoner they would have let me in the woods to die. But as a noble there is no such excuse." He smirked at Bran who still wasn't sure what he wanted. "You see, my brother has his sword, he is good with it. I on the other hand can't wield a sword properly so I have use my mind."

"Is it that why you read so much?" Bran interrupted him, losing his cranky composure for a moment. He had placed his arm around Summer and petted him while listening to his brother-in-law.

"Yes, because a mind need a book, education at all, like a sword a whetstone." He answered the question and took a deep breath and added. "And that's why you need to learn Bran. Even if you can't walk, you can use your mind and believe me it's much more dangerous than a sword, if you know how to use it." Another smirk from him and this time Barn decided to smirk back. The words made sense to him, somehow. Lord Tyrion couldn't wield a sword and still was a Lord. But on the other hand the confidence the words had caused drained away by the bitter thought that he had wanted to be a knight and then Tyrion added: "You can do more than you think right now, cripple or not."

"I am no cripple!" Bran spat, his mood back down. He might couldn't use his legs but this didn't make him a cripple after all. He didn't want to be a cripple. Tyrion looked taken aback by Bran's sudden outburst, but as usual only for a moment

"Then I am not a dwarf!" He gave back, grinning on a way that made Bran a bit uncomfortable. "My father will be so happy by the news his heart will start to beat again and he will clearly break his gravestone during his ascent."

Bran was dumbfounded for a moment, starring at Tyrion with an open mouth. The man didn't look enraged or anything, it was more a quick mocking before he turned serious again and sounded friendly again: "Believe me Bran, it's hard to be a cripple but if a cripple better to be a rich one."

"What do you know?" He replied defiant. "You at least can walk. What can I do?" Bran asked, the knot in his chest had grown, he felt terrible. "I can't walk, I will never be able to fight with a sword or even using a bow. I can't even ride." He was near screaming. Bran felt how Summer tensed up under his hand. Bran hadn't had such an outburst yet. He hadn't wanted to bother the other and he actually hadn't wanted to bother Tyrion too.

But the small Lord only smiled at Bran with a wide grin and his black eye glinting.

"And what if you could ride again?" He asked with raised brows, it made his squeezed face looking rediciulous.

"How?" Bran asked uncertain what he meant, Lord Tyrion never asked without reasons and so there was a sort of hope growing in Bran.

"Let me act my magic and see." Tyrion replied tipping with his finger in the air. He smiled widely at the puzzled Bran before picking up the book. "But first we have to do a chapter." He leaned forward again and whispered: "You must help me here or Sansa will be mad at me."

Bran knew it was just an overstatement but Tyrion had persuaded him, he would sharp his mind.

-##-

It was only three days later when Jon came in Bran's room, Hodor behind him. Bran was just reading a book Tyrion had recommend him, h had read nearly unstoppable since Tyrion had given him his lecture, he had been very different to Maester Luwin, his wit and jest had made the chapter funny. Bran ha liked it but hadn't objected when Luwin had continued to teach him the next day. It was strange that Jon would come so early, it was just after noon, so Bran looked up curious.

"Time to go." Jon announced and gestured Hodor to pick Bran up. "There is something for you in the yard."

"What?" Bran asked, not sure if he should be excited.

"You will see." Jon replied with a smile while Hodor lifted Bran from the bed, causing Summer to jump up and running around the giant's feet. There was no way to say something else so fast had it happened.

Bran was still uncomfortable to be carried by Hodor, he didn't like it to be treated as a crippled child. But he let it happen because he wanted to know what was in the yard. Jon had such a mischievous facial expression. Was it good? Bad? Was mother back?

The stable boy carried Bran down the stairs, careful not to bump Bran's head at the walls of the staircase. Bran wasn't very patient and constantly asked Jon what was of it in the yard but there was no word he could get out of his brother.

Entering the yard the first thing that Bran noticed was how cold it was compared to the warm castle. He tightened his cloak around his neck and pressing himself into the warm Hodor while scanning the area.

"Hodor" Bran heard from above him, looking up he saw the simple face of the giant who nodded forward. Following the eyes of his carrier Bran found what he had been searching for.

A bulk of people waited in the centre of the yard. Bran immediately recognised Sansa and her husband. Both were sitting on horses with long red cloaks around them. Tyrion looked funny with a cloak longer than himself but Bran didn't laugh. There were at least ten other horses around them. Bran could see Sandspear, the dornish horse Sansa had presented him, the horse he loved and mourned because of his legs. But his brown horse had a strange saddle on it, and bran remembered Tyrion's promise. There were also the horse of Jon and he saw Robb's as well. Following the scene he saw Robb standing between his and Bran's horse holding the reins. Theon was already on his horse, his bow at the side. At least thirty or more knights surrounded them, all Lannister.

Hodor brought him to them and Bran still couldn't say what the meaning of all this was.

"We thought we should ride out today Bran." Sansa explained to him with a smile on her face, her cheeks as red as her cloak from the wind. Bran just looked at her bewildered, was that a cruel joke, he couldn't ride. Why should they….

"With this saddle you will be able to ride." Tyrion interrupted his thoughts twinkling to him while gesturing at the dornish Sandspear. "I said I would act my magic and here we are."

Bran still couldn't entirely understand what was going on, and it seemed Tyrion had read his minds again, it caused a shiver over Bran's spine but he couldn't think about it more because Hodor heaved him in the saddle. Bran noticed some attachments at the sides, straps where his legs were, two servants started to bind Bran's legs at the saddle.

"You must use the rein, boy." Maron, the dornish who had cared for the horses Sansa had brought north, startled Bran out of his bewildered thoughts. He appeared behind Robb's horse and took the rein from his smiling brother. "Dornish horses are much smarter than other, he will follow all your commands after you two grew accustomed to the new situation."

Bran, encouraged by the idea to ride again, tried to tug at the rain and his Sandspear followed without hesitation. Suddenly with the prospect of riding again he turned to his sister and Tyrion smiling brightly at them. Once again, like he had done three days before, Tyrion tipped with his finger in the air, like he would act magic.

Bran looked down to marvel his saddle when he realised it couldn't have been made in just three days, they had planned that, he realize. Looking back up again with a questioning gaze he saw Tyrion's finger secretly pointed at Sansa, following it he found Sansa's finger secretly pointed at Tyrion.

"Can we go?" Robb asked him, petting his side and startled him out of his thoughts. Bran turned to him smiling even wider when his brother added: "I had intended to have this as a nice little ride out but our western friends prefer to escort us. Hope you don't mind."

Ban looked around to the red coated knights and understood, they didn't want to let their Lord alone. But he didn't care, he wanted to ride and he used the rein again to guide Sandspear to the gates, letting Robb and Jon no time to mount their own horses.

He started forward, seeing how the wolves followed his horse to the gates.

It was a good day for Bran, he didn't feel like a cripple, he could ride.

* * *

**At the moment I have sort of a Blockade, I have chapters until 12 ready but if I can't overcome the blockade there will be a hiatus in three weeks, sorry**

**Maybe I write something different to overcome the blockade, who knows**

**I hope you liked it, I recycled a bit from the books**

**BTW: Bran is older so I thought I change a bit**

**Please review**

**Before I forget it: I love you all**


	11. Jaime II

**I have an exam tomorrow so here is the chapter for this week**

**Sorry, unbetaed again**

**I own nothing**

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Sansa

_Six month in the marriage_

Sansa wasn't sure what she should expect to happen next. She walked through the golden corridors of Casterly Rock, heading towards her quarters. From time to time she abrupt stopped and nervously played with her sleeves or adjusted her jewellery, playing with her rings, while pretending to admire a certain paining or tapestry, just to gain time.

It bothered her to wear out her new gown in the process. It was imported from Asshai, long red fire silk held by multiple golden chain at her waist. She really liked it because of the fine material, she would order more of it soon. It perfectly hugged her features without revealing too much, felt like the sun on her skin and went beautifully with rubies. But sacrificing it to her nervousness about something that should be normal was something she disliked.

Everybody did it, but she had to have problems alone thinking of it. Sansa had already found the guilty one. She blamed Septa Mordane for educating her the way she had done, harbouring her shyness instead of preparing Sansa for the time she would be married.

"You must be shy, modest" She had said: "Not acting like a harlot." She had said. Sansa screamed in the inside alone thinking of her words and how preparing they had been. Why not something like: "When you are married you can be sure your husband's touch is nothing to be afraid of, it's can be something to embrace." But no, Sansa's Septa had failed miserably in this.

'Stupid dried maid' Sansa thought, why her mother had allowed such a prude and unexperienced woman to teach her daughters being a Lady Sansa couldn't understand, it had not been to her benefit. Well, at least the part with the touching.

Sansa had learned to manage all duties of the Lady of Casterly Rock, meetings with Lords and Ladies, hosting feasts or leading the Household. As much as being the first Lady of House Lannister, what manly meant that everybody came to her with family problems or requests, for children to name after a great ancestor or marriages, Sansa sometimes felt like a nanny. Luckily she wasn't alone with this particular part of her new life, it felt strange being above women much older, if not all times wiser, than herself and without Genna and Dorna Sansa would have failed long ago with them.

Both women were always a great help for her since the day she had arrived. Genna the witty and dominant Lannister who had answers and opinions to all matters and Dorna, who was as Sansa an outsider married into this family, but had always a motherly shoulder for Sansa or a warm smile. Both were like aunts for Sansa, very different aunts but Sansa appreciated everything they could give her.

Although Sansa would have liked to have her mother with her. She missed her, like she missed her father and siblings, even Jon. But they were away at Winterfell. Sansa had promised herself she would make them proud, proving she could manage her new life alone. She still wrote letters and received a few, they didn't eased the sorrow much. But now she was the Lady of Lannister, a Lady of a castle, like her mother she had to leave her home to be this Lady and she was good in being a Lady.

Sansa had also successfully found her place as a wife. But perhaps she had to give Tyrion the credit for that. He had lured her out of her shell by proving to her that he was trustworthy, after that it had been easy. Sansa enjoyed to be with him, reading with him, playing cards or Cyvasse from time to time. They had grown together since he had managed to make her smile.

First she had been all closed up, not even looking at him, her feelings had been to hurt by being married off to him, father hadn't even known him. She had relied on the courtesies Septa Mordane had taught her. She had hid herself in them, not wanting anything to do with him. She hadn't cried after the wedding, but she had thought she wouldn't be happy again, forever. She had been so wrong.

Sansa really appreciated Tyrion's efforts, he had gone to great lengths to do everything he could to make her happy or maybe even more important, to make her laugh. Admitted his humour was in need of getting used to but after she had lost her fear of him it all came naturally.

And the fact that she got whatever she wanted, all things she loved so much but never had or dare to ask for had helped to ease the first obstacles. It was like a dream and so she had acted first, but he had always insisted: "Let it be my gift".

This all together had led to Sansa finding comfort in his presence, his personality was so different of what she knew, so loveable. All those parts of him, his mind, wit, humour, how he teasingly tried to cheat while playing carts, always so clumsy she couldn't do differ than noticing, his grins and smiles, his kindness as well as the from time to time impression he could read what she wanted saying or not let her have feelings for him high above liking.

Tyrion had also started to introduce her in the deeps of politics, making her sit beside him while he hold court. He wanted Sansa to be more than just the woman at his side, he asked for her advice with increased frequency, wanted to discuss matters of importance with her rather than with his aunt.

Sadly Sansa was lost if it came to this, how was she supposed to know? Nobody ever taught her about politics. Tyrion had waved her objections away like a childish excuse, but instead of demanding something from her she couldn't do he had given her books and led her through their discussions. Sansa understood more and more every day, but had also noticed that he was too paranoid. For him everybody had second thoughts, some evil plot somewhere hidden. Sansa thought it ridiculous. Why couldn't he simply trust people?

But it didn't matter, the feeling that he trusted her with such important matters, had honoured her. He thought she was more than just a daft song loving girl, like he saw some of his cousins. Sansa had to admit it flattered her to be more to him than just a neat trophy and it benefited their relationship even more, especially since she knew that he actually liked it to have her talking back to him. Sansa had learned that he would listen to her, doing what she said an entirely new feeling for her. But it came with the fact that sometimes she had to direct him in the right direction. Sometimes with a little force, she had no problems with that, she knew she could feel safe with him no matter what.

But there was one thing she still failed miserable with, being his wife in the bed. She was so shy, flinching when he touched her. Even with him only doing so after she had allowed it. Kissing was hard as well, Sansa had always imagined it sweet, but when they made an attempt her heart began to pound in her chest, she blushed uncontrollably, not to mention the sweat and the blood rushing through her ears. She couldn't even sleep in the same bed without blushing, hiding her womanly parts with her arms before shielding herself with the blanked, nightgown or not. This was also the reason she wouldn't wear silken nightshifts, she was too uncomfortable. But she wanted to, she had a stunning blue nightshift made out of a special silk from Lys, it felt so good on her skin but it also revealed too much of her. But because of Septa Mordane's stupid education she only could wear long plump woollen shifts formed like a sack and thick like a winter coat.

It wasn't because of his look, yes first she had found him ugly as hells but in time the words her Septa had spoken came true: "All man are beautiful" It just had taken time and she discovered what Sept Mordane had meant. Now she wasn't afraid or disgusted anymore. Actually Tyrion had some really cute features, the way he smiled together with his puppy look. Only Sansa could see it in this awesome mismatched eyes of his, she really liked them, especially the black one when it shimmered in the light as much as the warm green one.

All together Sansa wasn't in anyway revolted by his look, sometimes it was the opposite. Or so she thought, it was not like fancying somebody she saw from a far. Sometimes in the night when he slept and the moon would shine she turned to him and thought it would be nice to touch him, feel him, this urge came together with a warm feeling in her belly that occurred when he was with her or if she just heard his voice. But in all this nights she had blushed again, how she hated it.

They sparsely talked about the topic, Tyrion was very patient with her, more than expected from a husband. But driven by the confusing although complex feelings she had for her husband Sansa had talked to him about it this morning at breakfast.

He had been dumbfounded at first, it had been really funny to see her eloquent man searching for his tongue. Sansa had explained she wanted more, but didn't know how when she wasn't even comfortable around him in a nightgown.

He had said he would prepare something for this evening, a little exercise for them, to start overcoming this problem. Sansa had no idea what he had meant, and it made her nervous. Although the prospect of him and her together gave her a thrill of anticipation. She knew Tyrion had experience, with whores, but he had also been married before her, so it wasn't like a blind would guide a blind.

He never talked about his former wife, like everybody else at the Rock, like there would be a dark secret within it. Sansa had given up to bring him to talk about her. She was now his wife and that was all that mattered.

Finally arriving at the huge gold plated door to their chambers Sansa took a last deep breath, still unsure what to do. She wanted to go in, her mind, yes, her heart told her to go in, but there was her chest and this godsforsaken feeling it would be improper. This feeling Septa Mordane had let growing in her.

Gathering her courage, all she had, she ordered the servant besides the door to open the heavy doors for her. She was a Stark of Winterfell, she wouldn't be afraid of something every couple did.

But by stepping inside, she already hesitated again, her intentions replaced with uncertainty.

The room was brightly lit, hundreds of candles flickered in their golden holds. Their chambers consisted out of a gracious antechamber with a curtained arc to the big living room which was attached at the bedchamber where the doors to the dressing rooms, wardrobes as well as a passageway to the privy and another room with marble basins to bath, laid.

But while striding the antechamber and entering the living quarter through the heavy red curtains she found no clue of Tyrion. What she found was a big golden bathtub in the centre of the living room.

Sansa was puzzled by the sight, they had no use for a bathtub with the bath room so nearby. Stepping closer Sansa looked in the filled tub, hot steam rose from the with foam and bubbles covered surface of the water.

Sansa had no idea what Tyrion intended with this, but then she spotted a piece parchment on a table at the side of the tub, together with a flacon of wine and two cups. First thing Sansa did was smiling at the wine. She never liked the bitter flavour of the wine in the North, if she was allowed to drink some at all. The fruity and sweet wine of Casterly Rock was so much better, she had also tasted different sorts of wine over the last month but the wine at the Rock was still her favourite.

Sansa took the parchment and read what was written in what she recognised as Tyrion's neat handwriting:

_My dear wife_

_If you are sure of what you want, take a long hot bath, with much foam_

What had that to mean? Was she not clean enough for him? Sansa felt suddenly insulted by Tyrion, how could he dare? Or was it an inappropriate jest? But then she rethought her notion, he wouldn't have gone to such careful preparations just to bath her. He was up to something.

Sansa considered her options, did she really want it? She had feelings for Tyrion, she wasn't sure if it was love but there was something more than liking. She remembered that she had thought about it all day and that her wish for more had already overpowered her doubts.

She unfastened the golden chains around her waist and let her gown drop to the ground unceremoniously, she picked it up and folded it over a nearby chair before taking of her jewellery. It took some time to remove all her necklaces, rings and earrings. Finished she looked around to be sure nobody was there, this behaviour was again owed to her trained shyness, and let her undergarments fell to the ground, not bothering to pick them up, a servant or maid could do that later.

Quickly so she wouldn't be exposed for too long she slipped into the bathtub. The water was still hot and Sansa embraced the feeling of the foamed water on her skin, around her limbs. She loved the feeling and relaxed immediately.

Sansa leaned against the back of the tub and reached for the wine, noticing pleased that the liquid was cold. The servants couldn't have been ready with this scenery long before she had arrived. She poured herself a cup and leaned back, closing her eyes and savoured the momentum. Her body was covered in water and foam together with bubbles, so nothing except for her neck and head was to see. She liked it, in the evening after a long day a hot bath was a pleasant experience, Sansa decided to do this more often. All her worries about what Tyrion planed were forgotten.

Sansa had no idea how long she had been in the tub when the door was loudly opened and Tyrion marched nonchalant in the room. Startled by his intrusion and realising how much on display she was Sansa contorted in the tub, quickly covering herself with her hands.

Tyrion only grinned at her and bowed before he stepped to the edge of the tub. Sansa, blushing again, let herself sink deeper in the water until only her head above her nose was to see. She eyed her husband suspiciously, embarrassed for her own shyness, but she couldn't do anything about it, it was a reflex and she couldn't stop.

Tyrion leaned at the edge of the tub, he was just as tall as necessary to cross his arms on the edge. He grinned widely at her before letting his gaze wander over the water, causing Sansa's reflexes to strike in again and the water churn up.

"You know Sansa" He told her still grinning. "As more as you struggle in the tub as more will the water be churning and this thick layer of foam will disappear." He let his finger wander over the water, catching foam on it and hold it in front of his face. "Not that I would complain about it, I could see more of you then." He smiled wickedly at her, before leaving the side of the tub to get himself a chair.

Sansa surfaced out of the water, only to the chin and confirmed that he was right, the foam made it impossible to see any part of her body, it made her feel more relieved, she could breathe more freely. The foam was like a blanked over her and the water around, even transparent as it was felt in her mind better than being naked.

In the meantime Tyrion had dragged a chair at her side and climbed on it, only to take the second cup on the table, pouring himself a gracious portion of wine after refilling her cup.

"You are beside me and naked" He chanted, sounding immature like a child, while grinning at her. Sansa reached for her own cup, carefully so he wouldn't see more than her arm reaching out of the foam and took a great sip.

But she relaxed further, the warm water and the fact that he couldn't see her were helping much. It wasn't like wearing clothing, it was totally different but it didn't bother her so much anymore. Then it dawned her, his plan.

"Clever man" She grinned at him, some self-confidence returning. "What is next?"

"Maybe I join you?" He suggested nonchalant, tossing his wine. At his words Sansa blushed again and sunk deeper. Her behaviour cause a roaring laughter from him, he nearly fell from the chair.

Sansa took her revenge by splashing water from the tub at him, she didn't cared of the foam at this moment.

"Stop, stop, I surrender." He plead laughing, shielding his face with his hands, feeling merciful Sansa stopped, but not before laughing loudly. But noticing the small hole in the foam she quickly closed it.

The time went by, Tyrion told her from his day and Sansa told him from hers. She felt comfortable, like at the dinner table, she didn't waste a single though on the fact that she had no clothes on. Tyrion sat beside her on his chair drinking and talking while she stayed in the golden tub. With time the water and her shyness were forgotten. Until she noticed that the foam slowly dissolved and uncovered her. Sansa looked up in shock but Tyrion gave her a grin together with a shrug.

"Still feel uncomfortable?" He asked her and Sansa had to admit that it wasn't so bad. She shacked her head, a bit bewildered by the situation but she didn't try to cover herself, the water was still there, it eased the reflex. It was also more milky than clear, so he only could see a silhouette of her, more than usual, and she was still naked but she didn't care.

"Good." Tyrion grinned. "Next time we perhaps reverse positions." He got up and walked in their bedroom only to return a moment later with a bath robe for her. "And in time, perhaps we bath together." He suggested, climbing on the chair and holding the robe for Sansa. After he had averted his gaze she rose from the tub and quickly covered herself with the robe. "I am sure after we uncovered this obstacle we can manage the rest easily."

He jumped from the chair and offered her his hand to lead her to the bedroom. He was right. Sansa thought to herself. Her she didn't blushed anymore, even dressed improper. It had worked, not entirely but she felt better around him with so less clothes on, a few times maybe and she could be naked around him, without blushing as well as seeing him naked without blushing.

A cunning little husband she gotten there, fighting Septa Mordane's faults by tricking them.

Jaime

Cersei paced her room wildly, looking between being in rage and like a kitten that caught a mouse. But Jaime could see the anger was more powerful.

"He is my son!" she nearly screamed in the room. "I am the Queen!" She turned to him and hammered with her hand on her breasts. Jaime nearly forgot the situation, seeing how her hair moved and her eyes burned, not to mention her breast moving by her hand hammering on them. His sister was breath-taking and he couldn't avoid admiring her dreamingly. But he had to get his act together, the situation demanded it. "After all I endured, he dares to make him regent!"

Robert Baratheon, the great King of the seven Kingdoms lied on his death bed, stricken down by a boar. Cersei's doing, his sister's doing. And Jaime still wasn't sure why she had managed his accident, but somehow its reasons lied with Ned Stark.

Four weeks ago, during the tournament of the Hand, the tournament the actual Hand hadn't participated in, Cersei had talked to the Northerner. The evening after she had been excited and wrathful like she was now. Apparently Lord Littlefinger had tried to cause some trouble between the Houses Stark and Lannister, but had failed miserably. Even if he didn't know it, but Jaime knew he was just a dead man walking. A Lannister paid her debts, Baelish was blissfully unaware that as soon as the succession had been ruled out, he would die a horrible death for defiling the House of Lannister and more important Cersei. But so long he would think he had won, great mistake, but nothing Jaime had to worry about now.

However, Eddard Stark had made an offer of peace, owed by the family bound they supposedly shared. Cersei had taken it, feeling confident to use it for her own benefit. Jaime had gone to him as well, talking to him, just to discover he truly wanted to trust them and believed in their friendship. Jaime thought he was an illusionary fool to think only because Tyrion was nice to him for the sake of his wife he could trust all Lannisters.

But there had been two reasons Jaime hadn't laughed in his face, first Cersei was worried, she always worried too much. Worried about Littlefinger's lies, worried about the King finding out, worried about losing all and be alone. So he had played along and now Jaime had to admit that an alliance between them could be a benefit at the court. Not to mention that it drove all the other ass kisser and lecherous schemer of the court crazy to see wolf and lion being a nice, functional family standing together.

His second reason was Tyrion, Jaime hadn't forgotten the fight they had had in Winterfell. Jaime had promised himself at least to try to be nice. It really seemed to matter a lot for Tyrion that they families were at good terms.

But now the great problem was that Cersei felt so over confident with the trust Lord Stark put in them, yes slavish trust, that she had decided to get rid of her husband. Jaime shouldn't have a problem with disposing this drunken violent fatso who constantly insulted his sister. But Robert was his King and Jaime was a member of the King's Guard, it was his duty to protect the King.

Luckily for his consciousness Cersei hadn't bothered to tell him what she panned. She somehow had urged the King to go hunting, making sure he would drink himself to death and the fool had done it. Now the King was dying and Cersei had seen her great chance to finally rule.

Jaime actually had no problem with seeing his sister on the Iron Throne. It had always bothered Cersei that because of her cunt nobody would let her have power or a sword. Jaime never shared this opinion, there were worse male ruler out there than Cersei would have been, would be.

But Robert had decided to make Ned Stark the regent for Joffrey, and Cersei raged.

Although Jaime saw the situation different than his sister, he had small liking for the man but Ned Stark would most likely be a capable ruler, naïve he was, yes, but potentially a good regent for Joffrey. The boy needed a male example he could follow other than the whoring fat ass and then perhaps he could become a halfway decent King, instead of flaying his brother's pets.

Robert had never showed interest in Cersei's children and when Jaime had wanted to get involved in their lives Cersei had forbade it. He had never been allowed to be more than an sparsely there uncle. Even Tyrion had spent more time with the children, but not enough to make good for Robert's failures. Jaime had honestly to admit that he was not sure if Joffrey was to be a person meant to life. Cersei had pampered him so much, made him depend on her so much that in the end he not cared for more than her and his ego. He would be a cruel King, too cruel and unfortunately with the same illusions Cersei had about ruling.

His sister still thought that ruling would be a right by blood, that a ruler goo do as he liked without caring for other. And if named other had a different thought, or disobeyed they were traitors to kill. Jaime had seen this attitude, even if Cersei's had lessened since their father had died.

Ned Stark's children on the other side seemed to be better, and perhaps he could teach Joffrey something, as well would Jaime do, he could be the uncle who took care after the father's death. And the boy would need help alone if he wanted to survive his soon to be bride.

After speaking with Tyrion Jaime had put an interest in the Stark children, for his brother, and he had discovered that the younger girl was a real wolf. Cersei saw only a threat for her relationship with Joffrey or his health, given the incident with the wolf, but Jaime saw a bit of Lyanna Stark, he had seen at Harrenhal, in the girl as well as something of Cersei. This clearly visible wish to be more than a sowing breeding mare with the girl was so much like Cersei, only that Stark hadn't been their father and didn't put an end to it, like Lord Tywin had done so often when he had noticed. Joffrey would have huge problems if he wouldn't change, Jaime thought, thinking at the faith of King with the stinking wound in the keep.

"I will not let them take my time away from me Jaime" Cersei declare in rage, Jaime was sure she was ready to throw something through the room. So he got up and sneaked behind her to hug her tightly, feeling her warmth.

"Ned Stark wants nothing more than to be back in his cold home." Jaime whispered in Cersei's ear, leaning his head on her shoulder. Her hair tickled his side. "He will do his duty as long as he is needed and then he will leave. Let him be." He tried to calm his sister, only to witness how she remove herself from his embrace, turned around and glared at him with her wonderful green eyes, that had turned to wildfire.

"Why should I let this happen? Heh?" Jaime wanted to approach her but she backed up, punishing his words with coldness. "Joffrey is my son, it's my time to rule and if he doesn't want to give to me what is my right I will take it by force." She started pacing again, Jaime suddenly had a very bad feeling about it.

"What do you mean?" He asked carefully, not to provoke his angry lioness.

"When Robert is death I will make sure Ned Stark is gone." She declared seriously. "And he can take his dirty daughter with him."

"And how do you want to accomplish that?" Jaime asked, stepping forward now, this wasn't good, Cersei risked too much.

"We are family, or did you forget?" She mocked him, smiling malicious. "He will go. I will make sure of that and if not I will make sure of it with force." She picked up a cup of wine from a nearby table and guided it to her lips but didn't drink. "Maybe the gold cloaks. This butcher Slynt would surely do it if I promise him a Lordship."

"You can't!" Jaime exhaled, he tried to calm his tone, wanted to reason with her. This was to rash, inconsiderately. Cersei never thought her plans all through, it was too rash, like her plan to kill Robert, yes it had worked but it could have strike back terrible, she had luck. But her idea now would mean war. "What you plan will only accomplish one thing, a war we can't win." He tried to make it clear to her. Cersei gave him a sour expression and a pejorative gaze.

"Are you afraid of a few northern savages with pikes brother?" She smirked at him. "I thought you were more of a man." It had hurt, Cersei knew exactly where to hit him. But he couldn't let her corner him.

"Depose Ned Stark and the Northerner will fight against you, and what then?"

"I will be Queen Regent, my son will be King. What should I care about a few harry savages, they will be crushed on my command." Cersei took a winning sip of her wine thinking she had won. Jaime would have liked nothing more than shaking his head, but knowing his lovely sister he decided not to. She made the same mistake the Mad King had done.

"And who will fight for you?" He asked her, only receiving a doubting glance before she dedicating to her wine again. Jaime took a deep breath and started: "Robert's brother will rather seek power for themselves than let you be Queen Regent, they won't fight for you. The dornish couldn't care less, maybe they will enjoy seeing Lannister die. The Reach won't fight for us they hate us." Jaime had hoped his recital would be enough but seemingly it wasn't: "On the other side Tully and maybe Arryn will fight for the North, this is for sure. Who is left? Tyrion?" Cersei gave him a poisoning look by his mentioning of their brother but Jaime knew she knew he was right. "You never gave him a single reason to raise his banners for you. But the Stark-girl gives him a reason to fight for her father every night."

"So you want me to give our dwarf a reason to fight for me?" She spatted at him, making him now back up by her outburst. "Oh would you like it to have him in my bed, do you want to join while he touches me, like a common whore of his or do you want to watch?"

"What I want, my dear love" Jaime said, hoping not to show his wound Cersei just ripped "is that you see clear."

"See clear?" Jaime was sure she would throw her cup at him. She was so beautiful when she was angry. So Jaime ceased the moment and took her in his arms again, she struggled but when she gave up he whispered:

"Let him have his time as regent." Jaime tightened his grip. "Let Joffrey be prince until he is of age." Jaime savoured her smell. "Share the power with him. He will be good but with you together he will be even better." He tried to seduce her, roaming his hands all over her body. Jaime really thought what he had said. On his own this city would swallow even the best regent, if he was so honourable like Ned Stark. He was too honourable and Cersei too rash. Maybe working together would be of benefit for both. They could be a team and showing the realm that everything is all right. Tyrion would like that too. But Jaime was sure Ned Stark would have some problems to face then. "And if he doesn't share familiar, like he should. I will kill him. I will kill them all."

"You want me to share, why should I? Or better, why should he?" Cersei asked defeated, Jaime had finally reached her. She considered hi idea and that was worth a lot.

"Because we are family, have you forgotten?" He smirked in her ear before going with his head around and kissed the corner of her lip. It would be better this way, for all of them.

"I see." Cersei said, not returning his kiss but also not turning away. But Jaime could see another plan being born in her eyes, it worried him.

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**Hope it wasn't too much and you like it **

**Please review**


	12. Arya II

**I still waiting for my beta so...**

**I own nothing**

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Tyrion

_One week in the marriage_

Tyrion looked over the table to his freshly made wife. Even here in the golden dining room of the Lord of Casterly Rock with the golden tableware, illuminated by chandeliers and sparkling diamonds, she outshined everything with her beauty, even in her simple northern gown. Sansa still made him breathless, alone the idea of her, being his wife was like a dream for him. A dream he had never thought to become true.

The wedding was only a week ago, but they had only spent sparsely time together since then. Tyrion could understand her feelings, or at least he thought so. She was new at the Rock, most likely afraid and to crown it all had her father left yesterday, she was alone now.

This dinner was actually the first time they were alone together, except for the nights when they slept in the same bed, but given the size of named bed they could easily sleep in different wings of the castle. She had put great effort in avoiding to be alone with him, spending time with her father or Genna. Tyrion wasn't mad about it, actually he welcomed that Genna, and Dorna too, sacrificed their time to introduce Sansa to the castle and her new duties. It was good that she had something to distract herself with.

But Tyrion was disappointed by the situation, he had hoped this marriage would be easier. He knew how foolish he was, what could he, the hideous dwarf of Casterly Rock, the ugliest man in the seven Kingdoms offer a girl like her? Lord or not, he was most likely a nightmare for her instead of a dream husband.

And now when he looked at her, her eyes fixed on her plate while she ate in silence, it gave him a slightly pang in his heart. He had thought a dinner for two, away from the busy castle could be of benefit for them, once again he had been foolish to think some time alone would help to overcome the awkwardness their relationship defined.

During the previous meals, together with her father, northern Lords and his family, there had always been somebody to jump in the line between them and broken the silence or the averting eyes. But now, nothing.

Tyrion should have thought this through better, 'how must she feel?' he asked to himself.

She was alone at a foreign part of Westeros, months away from home, with an unwanted husband worthy to be the villain in a good story and now her father had left as well. The only thing that remained were a small household guard with the crest of House Stark. Tyrion was sure she couldn't care less about.

"How was your day Sansa?" He asked, trying to break the silence in a desperate attempt. He had promised himself to do all what would be needed to make this marriage bearable for her, but in order to do so he had to know what bothered her, except the entire situation of course. He hoped it wouldn't be their marriage bed, even if she had the right to choose to lie with him or not he hoped she would at least continue to share a bed with him. She was beautiful, sweet smelling, soft spoken and Tyrion hated to admit he wanted her. Even if she just laid a feet away from him, child or not. "Did you settle in well?"

"Fine my Lord." She startled out of her thoughts, she nearly dropped her fork and Tyrion schooled himself. 'Stupid dwarf destroying all the foul mood'. Her voice was down, nearly humble, something Tyrion taken displeasure in this behaviour since they first met, if he had wanted a humble servant he had bought a whore, not married.

"You know, I have a name." He tried to lighten the tense mood. He leaned forward fixing her with his eyes and tried to look less dwarfish. Her blue eyes quickly glanced up to him but she averted them nearly instantly back on her plate again. But just this one moment when their eyes had met were enough for Tyrion to sink into this blue pools. Trying to get his act back together he reached for his cup and leaned back, dumbfounded for a moment.

"My Lord?" She mumbled a reply to his words, seemingly trying to focus on her food.

"Does your Lady mother call your Lord father 'my Lord' as well?" Tyrion asked in a curious tone, starting to make himself comfortable in his chair, tossing his cup in one hand while gazing at Sansa. He had found himself again and wouldn't let this matter down, he wanted her to call him by his name at least once. He was the Lord of Lannister, shame of him if he wouldn't get her, his wife, to call him by his name out of free will at least once.

"No." She whispered, but to Tyrion's relieve she stopped starring at her plate, she looked up, barely a blink but instead of looking down she took her cup, looking at a spot near his head, but not his face. 'Maybe the wine to calm her helps' Tyrion hoped

"So tell me my Lady, how does your Lady mother call your Lord father?" He asked directly, a bit to cheeky than intended. Tyrion took a sip of his wine to hide his grin, her face showed confusion and this meant he had triggered a reaction from her, a small victory for the dwarf.

"Ned" She said after a moment of hesitation.

"I suppose that would be awkward." He grinned at her, amused by his own words. Maybe he had a bit too much wine, he had barely touched it since his last drink with Jaime so he was out of training. "So why not call me Tyrion instead?" He offered her a solution for the problem, looking at her as friendly as he could.

She looked on the fence, Tyrion couldn't entirely determine her face. But then she simply nodded. 'She agrees!' Tyrion celebrated in his brain. How could something so simple be so great for him? He was tempted to press a bit harder to get her to say his name but decided instead to simply toast with his wine towards her.

"So now we have this." He continued his side of the conversation after she had taken his offer to take a sip of wine. Tyrion had no intention to go back to the silence and if he had to fill the evening alone with his words so be it. "How was your day?"

"Fine" Came the short answer again, Tyrion thought he would detect restraint and it worried him. Maybe she had spent the day mourning because of her father's departure but he knew she had done so yesterday as well, so there could be something else.

"Did anyone mistreated you?" He spoke out his suspicion but seeing no coping in her face, feeling a bit better he add bold with a smirk: "I will flay the guilty. I heard northerner do such a thing."

"Only the Boltons did so, but it's outlawed by house Stark." She spurred out in indignation, her eyes shot up to him, a spark of fire in them. Tyrion could only grin and taking a sip of wine to hide it. Two reactions in one evening and a passionate one too, this was good.

"Maybe for the better. It would have been a real mess." He stated half serious but regretted it instantly. Her face paled and shock appeared, she looked afraid.

'Stupid dwarf' He thought to himself, he always forgot his reputation, she must have taken him seriously. She was afraid of him, oh how he hated that. He had hoped their wedding night had shown her he wasn't as vile as he was supposed to be but maybe he overrated his own gesture. Carefully and slowly he placed the cup on the table before gazing apologizing at her.

"A joke." He assured her, seeing her slightly relaxing. 'At least she trusts my words' he thought. "A bad one, I am sorry." He added humble.

"How did you occupy yourself?" He quickly changed the topic back, hoping to lighten the mood. "Needlework?" Tyrion couldn't care less about needlework, he had never tried it though, but except of dancing, singing and gossiping he didn't know what else a highborn girl did to pass the time, excluding breeding of course. His only reverence were his cousins and Cersei and his cousins did nothing else than gossiping, and Cersei, he didn't want to think of her activities.

"Yes, but today I visited the library." Sansa answered him, quickly taking another sib of wine after such a bolt move.

Suddenly Tyrion was interested, he never saw one of his cousins in the library, let alone Cersei. He wasn't even sure how good they could read. He had once observed Lanna moving her lips while reading a child book. He knew of course that his sister as much as Genna or for example Dorna could read perfectly but most noble houses weren't so interested in teaching their women more than the traits interested by Lords. And even if, most girls, at least in the noble Houses he had seen, were only interested in knowledge prayed to them. Even the stories of gallant knights only were of interest as long as a bard sung them for them. His wife visiting the library on her own will was something that amazed Tyrion, waking something in him.

"What did you find?" He asked her leaning forward with wide eyes.

"I searched for the travel diary of Aetis." She sparked his mind even more with her words, slightly blushing, as if she was embarrass by her search. Tyrion had no idea why. "We only had a small summary at Winterfell and I hoped I would find a more detailed one."

Aetis had been a sailor who had travelled through Essos, nearly eighty years ago. His description of the free cities up to Asshai were famous in Westeros. But he had been a student at the Citadel so it were a very challenging book, too challenging for most men. Even Tyrion had had his struggles when he had picked it up seven years ago. That was why there were only simple summaries around in the Kingdoms, but not in Casterly Rock, Lannister take all or nothing. Alone the prospect Sansa could read this book, understand it was thrilling for Tyrion, because this ability was nothing he had hoped with her.

"Did you enjoy it?" Tyrion asked, intending to see if she really was as intelligent as he suspected.

"Oh, yes." She sounded suddenly excited. "I love his description of the free cities or Qarth."

"And you had no struggle with his way of writing?" Tyrion nearly hit the table with his chin so far he had leaned forward.

"No, I love it, my sibling always struggled with it and I have to admit the full version is much more complicated but I don't mind." She confirmed his greatest hopes. "I like how he sink in on every detail. It's like you would stand right there in the street seeing the wonderful gowns and jewellery and hairstyles." Sansa spoke without hesitation or restraint, her voice sounded free of burdens, like she had waited all her life to find someone who would listen to her about Essos.

"You like the fashion of the Essos? The stories about it?" Tyrion asked, he could imagine what was about it. It seemed in Winterfell were not such a great interest in these things, judging alone on the simple look of the Northerners who had visited the Rock. Sansa herself was always simple but elegant dressed, not like it was in the south. But maybe she longed for the South, or Essos, something more glamorous.

"I always loved stories, the great knights. But also all the beautiful thing in the South or the exotic places in the east." Sansa dreamed for him, her eyes like she was in a different place.

'Maybe not with me?' Tyrion though, noting that she loved stories and beautiful exotic thing, this knowledge would clearly come in handy in the future.

"I can understand that Sansa. I like them as well." He smiled that he had found something they had in common. "But I have to admit I prefer the history books over the fashion. But this shouldn't be an obstacle."

"You think." She asked clearly not sure what he was going for, she backed a bit up in her chair and eyed him uncertain.

"I love books, you seemingly love them as well, it's great isn't it." He cheerfully opened his arms. "Maybe I can accompany you on your next trip in the library."

"If you wish." Sansa replied, folding her hand under the table. Tyrion schooled himself for being too straight forward and decided to take a step back, avoiding them at the library for a moment.

"If you want to know more I would advise you the notes of my uncle Gerion, he had travelled through the free cities before he got lost on his way to Valyria." He offered her, making her eyes light up again. "But I fear it's only navigation." Tyrion couldn't stand the sudden disappointment in her eyes, it destroyed the lightened mood that had built up. His wife talked to him, they had a conversation, an intelligent one too. This was what he had wanted, even more than he had wanted. She was clearly more intelligent than it appeared by her exterior. If she could read Aetis and imagine to stand in a street she had more mind than most men of Westeros. Hoping to ease her disappointment he added: "But I could call some merchants form the port in Lannisport. You could listen to their tales out of first hand."

"Really, you would do that." She sounded surprised, Tyrion came in mind that maybe he should higher her expectations a bit.

"Sansa, whatever you want is yours." He explained to her carefully. Sansa leaned a bit more back, doubt in her face. "You are my wife, you can have everything you want. Gowns, stories, gold, everything from Westeros or Essos, you just have to ask, or request, whatever suits you more." Tyrion smiled assuring slightly fearing he had opened a door to emptying all the gold of the Rock but he didn't care as long as it would make her smile. Remembering something he read he added rather teasingly. "But I must insist you stay away from qartheen gowns, I am not sure how the castle react with their Lady walking around with an exposed breast."

Amusement flashed over her face, but to Tyrion's sorrow no smile, he had yet failed to make her smile.

"Maybe … no, sorry..." Sansa stammered after a moment of silence Tyrion had interpret as indecision.

"Please tell me." He encouraged her, an encouraging smile on his face. "Whatever it is, you are the Lady of Casterly Rock, just say it and it's done." She still looked sheepishly but Tyrion observed her taking a deep breath, gathering her courage.

"Maybe you could… eh … call a bard?" She asked him bushing and added hastily: "Only for a day or two. I love the songs and their music. We only had a bard in Winterfell once, not for long but I loved his songs." Sansa averted her eyes, maybe in modesty, her voice became very small: "I always wanted one to play for me."

"Hire one." Tyrion suggested spontaneously, his heart warming by her simple wish, how innocent she was. "You would have more of it."

"Isn't that a bit excessive?" She asked, out of her courtesies, Tyrion suspected but she couldn't hide a glisten in her eyes.

"You see that." Tyrion unceremoniously took one of the golden polished plates of the table and spun it on the side, letting the light reflect in the room. "This alone is enough to pay a bard for month. It's not excessive for you to have a bard of your own. I will ask Genna to arrange that you can audition a few bards. I think I will also send for a dressmaker, as Lady of the Rock you should have a clearly bigger wardrobe than what had fitted in your luggage" Smiling brightly at the hopeful but still a bit sheepishly look in her face he added empathetic: "Let it be my gift."

There was the blush again, but together with the twinkle in her eyes when she looked up in his face.

"Thank you, Tyrion."

She smiled at him

Arya

The cat quickly jumped from one step to another down the staircase. Arya carefully tiptoed behind her, searching for the right moment to jump and catch the swift kitten. Syrio had told her she should try to catch cats in order to become a better water dancer. But they were hard to catch. Every attempt of her was crossed by her prey jumping away a few feet, but the cat never run more than a few steps, like she was mocking Arya for chasing her.

Her lessons with Syrio were the only good thing in this city. Sansa had been right, the capitol was horrible. Not to mention that she had lost Nymeria, all because of this stupid prince.

He was a liar, Arya had tried to convince the King but the drunken fool hadn't listened and because of that Mycah was dead. She hated Joffrey, and she hated the Queen for demanding Nymeria's fur. No matter what Sansa said, she was as bad as Joffrey.

Arya had her friend sent away in the woods, hoping to save her life and it worked. But now she was alone, yes she had Sunworrier, her dornish horse, the gift from Sansa but Arya had no fun ridding out with her anymore, without her wolf at her side it was just a reminder of Nymeria's absence. But she kept Sunworrier always ready for ride, just in case.

Except for the tournament nothing else had happened in King's Landing until recently. Yes, there had been Joffrey's try, or better Wormy's to make peace with her. Arya had nearly punched him for trying to buy her forgiveness with a golden chain. She had called him by his new nickname for the first time before pacing off without glancing back at her supposed husband.

She called him Wormy not because of his ugly worm lips, they only had given her the inspiration, she called him so because he had coiled like a worm back at the ruby ford. He was a coward, a whiny coward who acted only like a man when he was superior, with his Hound. Arya truly despised him.

She now knew how Sansa had felt when she had to marry Tyrion, she hadn't wanted to marry. With the different that her husband had turned out to be nice and funny, even if not handsome. Arya would trade with Sansa any given opportunity, but she doubted Sansa would play along. The little Lord was too deep in her heart, Arya could see why, she liked him too.

But she would never change her feelings for Joffrey like Sana had changed her for her husband, Arya would rather stab him in his smug wormy face with Needle.

Arya had tried to make this clear to her father but it had been futile, like Sansa's pleas had been futile. It had been the King's wish that she would marry him, but the King was now dead and maybe there was hope for Arya.

While the cat ran in a dark corridor Arya followed her, trying to imitate the animal's way of moving, her thoughts wandered over the last days.

The King had died, killed while hunting and he had named her father regent of the realm. Arya had been in the throne room when her father had entered and seated himself on the Iron Throne, the Queen next to him. Arya had to stand besides Joffrey, playing along in the game while Ser Barristan had read the testament of the King, confirming her father's right to take the throne in the name of Joffrey.

Joffrey was supposed to stay prince until he was of age and her father should rule for him. For a moment the moment when a sour expression hit Wormy's face, when he had realised he wouldn't be King for some years, had been priceless and Arya had been glad to be there.

But ever since her father had nothing else in his mind than the realm, he spent the most of his time in his solar, or meetings of the council, or even worse for Arya, with the Queen. They even ate together with her and her children. Father had explained that families would do this, not to mention they had to show unity. But the Queen acted more like she would rule and father would be her inferior.

The only one of the Lannisters in the city she could stand was Ser Jaime. Tommen and Myrcella were nice too but Arya had not much to do with them. But with the Kingslayer it was different, not that they talked much, or meet. But he had dropped some comments towards her, always with a smug smile and she had caught him observing her.

One day while she tried to practice her standing for Syrio he had caught her, he just had smirked while passing her. He had called over his shoulder she would misplace her right feet, sounding more amused than helping, but he had been right.

But no matter what, she had no wish to be married to Joffrey, although she liked the other male Lannisters. Maybe, now that father was Regent Robert's wishes would be obsolete, maybe he could end the engagement and send her back home. She could search for Nymeria on her way back.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she flitted around a corner and found herself in a high dungeon, lit only by a little window at the roof.

But all her attention was drawn to the shadows, like the heads of monsters they lined the walls. Arya approached them, not gazing away from the mighty teeth. It were dragon skulls, Arya remembered a story she old Nan had told about the history of the dragons.

Arya was fascinated by the story of Visenya and Rhaenys, she asked herself while tracing her hand over the surprisingly warm and smooth bone which of them would be the skulls of Vhagar and Meraxes the dragons of Aegon's sister-wives, Visenya and Rhaenys. Arya had always liked them, fighting instead of sowing.

Arya wanted to look for them, only wild guessing when a noise, like a chain opening startled her. Scarred she could be in a part of the castle she wasn't allowed in, maybe her father would be angry, maybe forbidding her lessons with Syrio because she chased cats on his word, Arya flitted, like a cat, what she was proud for, in one of the bigger skulls, hiding with her small frame between the teeth.

From the dark at the far side of the room she heart light footsteps, two persons. She couldn't perceive what they were talking about, it was just a mummer but they came nearer and the words became clearer. Slowly she looked out of her hiding place and with her hands on the teeth she glanced with crouched head to them.

They silhouettes indicated two much bigger persons than the steps sounded like. The mummer grew louder and Arya controlled her breathing like Syrio had told her and pressed her back against the teeth again, listening to the two voices.

"… It's too soon. If events keep evolving in this speed all we worked for will be for nothing" One of the voices said, obviously a man with a foreign accent, only slightly but still there. "The usurper's death may mean war but with lion and wolf at the same side…"

"Yes, there will be war old friend, and yes it will be over soon." A lighter voice took over the track. "Littlefinger's clumsy attempt to cause distrust between Stark and the Lannisters had only led to a stronger bond between them. Even if I welcome that Lord Stark won't get crushed in the mills of this city, it poses a great problem"

"You sound like you like him?" The men came nearer and Arya heard her heart pounding in her chest.

"I respect him, he is a good men, there are too few out there."

"Good man or not if we don't do something about them we will fail."

"I fear by now nothing will be able to break the regent's and the Queen's alliance apart." A small humourless laughter escaped the unknown man's throat. "But the good thing is that our friend Baelish will find a much unforeseen death very soon. I'm normally not very joyful about a death but his face will be something to remember. Not to mention that I will be relieved to lose our greatest opponent so far."

"Only to replace him with another." The foreign man sounded annoyed. "Say what you want but if you want the boy on the throne this land must be begging for a saviour. For the good of the people a gruesome war between North and West would have been perfect to make them all desperate. But now I am afraid we must hope on the usurper's brothers to do the dirty work for us."

"There is no doubt Lord Stannis and Renly will challenge Joffrey's claim." The other man sounded calming. It wasn't calming at all for Arya, her jaw had dropped and she had to focus not to make any sound. "Littlefinger made sure to sow doubt at the boy's parentage. Our grim Lord of Dragonstone will do what he thinks is right, serve justice, you see." Now he sounded nearly mocking.

"And will your Lord Stark listen to them?" The foreigner sounded curious. Arya had no idea whose parentage they were talking about, this all was confusing.

"An honourable man like Ned Stark may believe the words of Stannis but we shouldn't forget that family is the death of honour, so he may act differently. But I doubt that, it's more likely he will weigh the Queen's words higher than Stannis'. Littlefinger tries to put doubt about the parentage in Stark's head since the first day, not knowing he only talks himself in an early grave don't help either. My little birds told me that the regent is not only aware that Baelish tries to play him, he participate in the game to find out why. Baelish's lies will compromise Stannis' word." A loud sigh was to hear. "There is no chance of no war between Stannis' and the throne. And Renly will fight as well, even if only for his own conceitedness, and for himself of course."

"This is good for us. A long war is exactly what we need. Khal Drogo won't march until his son is born, you know how this savages are. This distraction will give us time." Both men stilled direct besides Arya. She pressed her teeth together and hoped the shadow would hide her. Her chest moved heavily, they talked about war. Arya couldn't believe it.

"I doubt it will be more than a distraction." The lighter voice didn't let Arya a chance to bring order in her thoughts. "Lord Stark is a capable man, a much better leader than Robert was and with the Lannister resources at his side the Baratheon brothers won't stand a chance against him." There was a little disparaging chuckle, but without amusement. "Even if they would fight together I doubt they could win. Lord Stark might try to make peace but as soon as the Queen whispers in his ears what a danger they pose for their families he has no other choice than to crush them." An audible breath were to hear and one of the men braced himself against the skull Arya hide in. She looked up and saw the greyish sleeve of a colourful tunic in the dark. "If the brothers are smart enough not to fight against each other first and march directly to the city, Stark is smart enough to give the capitol up. He doesn't care for symbols. He will march North and unite with all forces he can get. West, Riverlands, North, maybe even the Vale. The man is respected enough. Which also cause the problem for Renly that he could lose his Storm-Lords. They once fought side by side with Ned Stark, if Renly isn't carefully they will remember his honour. This honour alone could strengthen Joffrey's position. Lord Stark will call all banners and come back South, no matter who is in the capitol at this point can't win."

"Is there nothing you can do, maybe sow some doubts in Stark's heart about his new allies? Separate them from each other? What is with the Queen you said…"

"I know what I said but the Queen isn't excluded from ruling like to King Robert's days. Northerner are different there, and with her difficult relationship with her brother at the moment Stark is her best chance to cling at the power, maybe even take over when he is finished. Or this is what she believes. Sowing doubts, no, I am afraid we won't be able to do that. Even if I would be able to spread mistrust in the capital this wouldn't change anything. The little Lord in the West will side with his father-in-law no matter what, the Queen knows that. And unfortunately Stark doesn't of his true power, they will work together. A really unfortunate constellation with Lord Tyrion as their arbitrator who can force them to work together. I must admit it's an unforeseen development out of the marriage."

"Maybe it was a mistake?" The voices started to walk again, away from Arya. "Didn't you thought this bound wouldn't change loyalties?"

"I underestimated the girl and the Lord." The voices became quieter. "Now it seems that when the Dothraki arrive, if they even come since Lord Stark stopped the assassin, they won't find a strongly weaken Westeros but more likely seven Kingdoms rules by the wolf and the lion."

"This bounces our plans back for years. The boy might not be ready for at least two years but if the Dothraki don't ravish the country nobody will accept him. I didn't put so much effort in this only to see the boy killed because we failed. Can't we eliminate Lord Sta…" The voice became silent in the room, and Arya was shaking. They wanted to kill her father, she had to warn him.

After she was sure the men were gone she emerged out of her hideout and made her way back to the Tower of the Hand, running like she never had run, she had to find her father.

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**Liked it? I know it's not very good but I have much to do lately so you must excuse my failings**

**I only have one chapter to update left, I still have a blockade (I have the plot and all but can't bring myself to write, I am not sure if this counts) and sadly way too much to do and to crown it all it seems my niece have colics, so I fear next week will be the last update for some time**

**While writing this I had so much to say about the chapter but I let this out for now**

**I would say please review but I am not sure if I want to hear them**


	13. Jon II

**Sorry, sorry, sorry**

**I made the mistake to let my computer open and someone, Idon't want to name, thought he or she could prank me, now I have to clean up and Tumblr**

**However, sorry for the delay**

**I own nothing**

* * *

Sansa

_Sometimes around the first month of the marriage_

Sansa giggled like a little girl over Myrielle's joke, covering her mouth with her hand, to at least create the impression of being the Lady of Casterly Rock. Her behaviour wasn't ladylike at all but Sansa honestly didn't care. Sansa enjoyed her time with Tyrion's cousins, it was nice to sit on one of the large balconies at the south side of Casterly Rock, occupying their time with needlework. Or at least that had been the plan. But now their needles laid unused on a bench at the side while the young women were sitting in a half circle around a small table with sweet, ingenious pastries and wine on it. Sansa's purple bard was sitting in a corner playing a slow melody on a flute.

Sansa had tended very quickly to them, Lanna, Myrielle, Cerenna and Jeyne Darry, Ser Cleo's wife. In contrast to Genna or Dorna they were near her age, they became friends quickly. For Sansa it was nice to have them around, back in Winterfell she hardly had been around girls near her age, except Arya and Jeyne Pool. But Arya was Arya and Jeyne was three years younger than Sansa. The little girl had always followed her around like a dog. Sansa saw her as a friend but three years were three years.

At Casterly Rock it was different, Sansa still couldn't believe how much she liked it here. She was married to Tyrion only a month, but the castle already felt like home, somehow.

Of course the first weeks had been hard and she still couldn't totally understand half of what Tyrion did sometimes. Especially hard for Sansa was to estimate when he joked or not, this particular problem had already caused a lot of misunderstanding between them. However, their initial problems slowly dissolved, Sansa could feel it. Just yesterday they had spent the afternoon in the library together for the first time. Sansa really liked to spend time with him, discussing something or just listen to him, after a short time she hadn't even noticed is look anymore. She still was a bit reserved with what she would say, not to mention her problem to touch him. Touching his arm was bearable for her, if he wore at least two layers of clothes. Sansa had no idea why she had such problems.

It was totally different with Lanna and the others, Sansa had no reserve with them when they spent time together, working with needles, eating cakes while watching the ships cross the Sunset Sea or the knights jousting in one of the yards or even gossiping, Sansa wasn't so fond of that but sometimes it as funny.

Lanna, Myrielle and Cerenna were all Lannister, from a different branch of the House but still, golden hair, green eyes, tall figure and a pale skin. They all were beautiful, Sansa sometimes wondered if the story of Lann the Clever stealing the sun was true after all, why else were all Lannister women so beautiful? Lanna was sixteen and betrothed to Antario Jast, a Lord of the Westerlands, sometimes she never stopped talking about him. The sisters Myrielle and Cerenna were fifteen and fourteen, the brown haired Jeyne were twenty-two. There were also Joy Hill at the Rock, Tyrion's bastard cousin, but she was only eight, too young for their little circle. But Sansa liked her, first she had been a bit dismissive to her like she had been to Jon. But Lannister treated their bastards even better than Starks and she had fast learned that. She had reconsidered her behaviour, and now she felt bad how she had been to Jon, since she learned that she missed him like the rest of her siblings, even Arya.

The age different between her and the other girls didn't matter for their friendship, even if Sansa felt sometimes intimidated by their experience. When it came to more saucy or inappropriate jokes during gossiping Sansa still blushed, like she was a child. Something like that wasn't common practise at Winterfell. They of course knew that her marriage was unconsumed but they acted as if it wouldn't be a big deal. Sansa suspected they were told so by Dorna.

Dorna had a habit of shielding Sansa against the outside, honestly against everyone, nearly as if Sansa would be her daughter. Genna always joked it was because of Dorna's pregnancy. Genna was not so sensitive, she thought Sansa should toughen up.

Sansa was grateful for both of them, especially when it came to deal with the duties of a Lady. Sansa had to care for the entire family and household, meeting petitioner and stewards in her own audience room. It wasn't very much as she had imagined, it had always looked so easy with her mother. Being a Lady was not only about a few orders, it was about assiduities, feasts, the smoothly running of the castle, servants, cooks, interior, Namedays which had to be prepared, or gifts to be sent to other castles together with regards when one of the Lords or his family had to celebrate something. Not to mention all the letters she recieved, it seemed everybody wanted something from her, some had petitions, offerings for furnishings or decorations, others wanted her to put a good word to Tyrion. Sansa had also to manage all the gifts sent to her to win her favour, like a baker who had sent a gigantic lemon cake in from of a standing direwolf, in the hope Sansa would name him her favourite baker of Lannisport and new supplier of the castle.

All of it was overwhelming for her, Sansa was barley thirteen and had to deal with all of this. Without the elder women she would be lost. Especially when it came to family matters, she was the Lady of Lannister and that meant all Lannister came to her if they had questions or problems. Last had been Dorna herself who wanted to name her child Janei if it would be a girl. Sansa found all this fuss rediciulous, why should she have a word in Dorna naming her child, but it seemed in the Westerlands everything was a bit more complicated.

It was Genna who introduced her in most of the duties but also still covered much of it, to Sansa's thanks. But unfortunately Genna was a merciless martinet, she always made sure Sansa would do more and more every day no matter what, even Tyrion didn't dare to stand up against her. Another reason why Sansa liked her girl time. For her friends it didn't matter that she was younger or was standing above them in the family hierarchy, they didn't care for it at all. This was her free time without anything to worry about, light and delightful, relaxing, the only other time like this she got when she was alone with her husband.

Sansa was taking her cup with the sweet wine she liked so much since discovering wine at all when one of her guards in Stark-grey entered the room.

"Lady Frey wants to see you milady." He spoke, bowing slightly. Sansa turned her head to the door to the balcony and looked puzzled at the Northerner. She had no idea what Genna could possibly want from her.

Sansa opened her mouth to tell the guard to let her in but in the same moment he was pushed out of the way and Genna marched on the balcony, not caring for the man who was visibly shocked by her bluntness. Genna let her piercing green eyes wander over the girls in front of her, letting her gaze rest on her daughter-in-law a bit longer before eyeing Sansa.

"I see you enjoy your time." She wasn't unfriendly but Sansa could hear something subtextual in her voice. "But I hope you don't want to go like that Sansa? Or?"

"Go?" Sansa asked bewildered, had she forget something? Genna looked at her with one of her disapproving gazes, like when Sansa was too lazy to sort the letters of a day or so.

"If you are so…" Genna opened her arm for a great gesture, something like a habit of the Lannisters, Tyrion often did the same, but her hand only collided with the armour of the guard she had pushed away and who had subsequently stepped closer to her with a dark frown. "Still here?" She asked blunt turning towards him, starring him down with one of this Lannister grins. "Are you suddenly frozen to the floor? Let us alone. Or is it customary for a Northerner to peep on his Lady and her friends?"

The man grimaced a bit perplexed before turning towards Sansa, asking silently permission to leave. Sansa, still uncomfortable with all this orders she had suddenly to give since she was married nodded, barely notable and the man left with long paces. After he had left Genna turned back to Sansa.

"The court? Tyrion wanted you to be at his side today when he holds court." Genna reminded her with a catish grin. Sansa suddenly froze in realisation, over the time on the balcony she had totally forgotten that, Tyrion had said he wanted her in court today yesterday.

She looked down on her, she only wore a simple gown and her hair, it was braided but clearly not ready for public. Sansa panicked and schooled herself in her mind.

It was the first time she was to attend the court a Lord held as a Lady and she forgot it, this would turn into a disaster, she screwed up. What would the Lords who came today think, or worse what would Tyrion think? He had confided to her that he thought her to be an extraordinary woman, not child, what would he think now?

"You should calm down Sweetling." Genna had stepped at her side and laid a hand on Sansa's shoulder, giving an empathetic squeeze. Sansa controlled her breathing and looked around. Lanna, Myrielle, Cerenna and Jeyne looked at her worried. Sansa looked up to Genna who smiled down on her. "We have much to do. Move!" She called to the other girls and they stood up like one and hurried Sansa towards her chambers.

-##-

In time Sansa was on her way to the Golden Gallery. Her hair was braided and hung open down her back, looking as if it would be lose. She also wore one of her newest gowns, she still couldn't believe it was hers. It was made out of silk, long sleeves, with myrish lace, crimson red with golden brocade and blue stones. She had always dreamed of such a gown, a princess's gown but never had she been allowed one. Tyrion had filled her wardrobe, dozens of these gowns in all colours she wanted. She had giggled high when the dressmakers had come, offering more and more fabrics and stones, without even mentioning a price or a limit. In the end of the day Sansa had pinched herself to see if it was a dream.

She was a bit uncomfortable with such an expensive piece, fearing she could damage it she moved very carefully. Same was for her new necklace with the filigree figures out of gold or her bracelets. Tyrion had said she just had to grow accustomed to it than it would be all right.

Sansa didn't had to hurry now so it was no problem. Genna had hurried Lanna, Myrielle, Cerenna and Jeyne to make her ready, not even waiting for the maiden. Even in the hurry they had been Sansa had enjoyed it, it was like the sisters she never had would spent a day with her. Sansa had always wanted sisters, to braid each other's hair and dressing in gowns, Arya wasn't like that.

Sansa looked over her shoulder to them and smiled, they smiled back, Genna was further in the background waving with her hands so they would be quicker. Chocking a laughter Sansa turned back, not without wandering with her eyes over her guards.

The Household Guard her father had left behind was the only thing reminding her of home. She had of course kept all the things she had brought to the Rock but the men with the direwolf crest and the untidy beards were the epitome of the North. They didn't really fit at the Rock and Sansa knew they didn't like it much. She didn't actually need them, they had been assuring at first, when she hadn't been sure about all, but now. She would send them back home, she had decided so, but not yet, when she was ready not sooner.

Reaching the door to the back of the Golden Gallery Sansa smoothened her gown, in an automatic habit and waited until a servant opened the door for her.

Sansa hadn't been very often in the Golden Gallery, the ancient throne room of the Westerland Kings, it was an enormous hall one hundred feet high, gold and crimson with the golden lion throne on the one end, in front of a window heading west. The Lords of Casterly Rock, as well as their royal ancestors had done, always held court in the evenings when the sun stood in the west. Every petitioner would be dazzled by the sun in the Lord's back, the red light also illuminated the hall and it's gold in a nearly fiery way. Sansa had to admit was a grandiose spectacle.

Tyrion had explained it to her, how it was supposed to show the Lannisters as what they were, descendants of Lann the clever, with the sun in their pate. Sansa thought it was a cheap but very cunning trick. The entire effect of red gold and late sunlight had something sublime, the guards at the sides of the hall with their golden polished armours reflecting the light only emphasize all more.

Sansa headed for the throne side where she spotted Tyrion, standing there in a red golden doublet, smiling when he saw her. His smile always made her belly tingle, she had no idea why. What was he than her unwanted ugly husband? She liked him yes, even trusted him, but she couldn't think of him as more than a friend, if ever. She had arranged herself with the situation, knew what would be expected from her but nothing explained her tingle in the belly.

Stepping nearer to him, returning his smile, she saw that besides the lion throne stood another one of equal size, but instead of lions as armrests it had lioness. Reaching Tyrion she bowed her head slightly to greet him.

"Sansa." He started sweet, taking her hand in his, four weeks ago she would have flinched, now there was just a slight knot in her belly and cold sweet on her back, but she controlled herself. 'Stupid girl!' Sansa scolded herself 'What are you afraid of?' "You look lovely. How was your day?" He complimented her.

_Truth, sincerer_

Sansa repeated her little exercise. She wanted to understand him so she tried to evaluate every sentence from him, it was stupid but she had no interest for another misunderstanding, these were always awkward.

"Thank you. I am fine, and you?" She looked up and down on him, he looked untroubled. He tilled his head and smiled again. More than that she wouldn't get from him she knew that already so she gazed questioning at the second throne, silently asking for an explanation.

"The old Queens and later the Ladies of the Rock have sit in it." He guided her nearer to the throne, pulling at her hand. "The seat had no use in the last years, so it took me some time to restore and polish it." He sounded sad for a moment but then is mood changed back to cheerful: "Now it's yours." He gently urged her to sit. Sansa, blushed, gracefully sitting down, embracing the soft cushions, letting her hands ghost over the cold gold. "I am sure it will be much more comfortable than standing around." He grinned upwards to her before letting go of her hand and climbed in the throne to her left. Sansa felt the warm evening sun on her back, looking left she saw it on him too, the light made his hair look nearly perfect gold, he shined.

_Truth_

"What shall I do?" Sansa asked uncertain, after he had settled down. A stupid question, what should she do at all other than sitting there, looking pretty and greeting men. Sansa blushed because of her daftness.

"You are the Lady of the Westerlands. What do you think?" Tyrion asked her nonchalant, he patted her left hand and leaned over to her. "We rule." He stated, nearly whispering in her ear, his voice so near, so intimate made her belly tingle again. His hot breath hid her side, warmer than the sun on her back. "I know it's your first time, listen, tell me what you think, make clear to them that you are the one with the power not them." He leaned back in his seat and finished louder, grinning widely. "And please tell me before you order to throw someone out of the window."

_Bad joke_

Sansa was totally puzzled, what was she supposed to do? How? She may had learned the laws of the seven Kingdoms, but nobody ever cared for preparing her for that, what did Tyrion think? She wanted to protest, saying she couldn't do what he wanted, hoping he wouldn't think less of her but the large doors at the other end of the hall were opened and a crowd flooded the hall, dazzled by the sun.

"Behold. Lord Tyrion Lannister, son of Tywin, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West and his wife the Lady Sansa of House Stark, Lady of the Rock and the Westerlands." The usher, a fat man with a roaring loud voice spoke to the silent crowd. In the first lines left and right of the hall stood noble men the rest behind them where commoners. They all bowed toward the thrones. They all came to put forth a petition, a request, all looked up to Sansa and Tyrion, some holding their arm over their eyes to hold back the sun light.

Sansa tried to sit as perfect as possible smiling and trying not to let her nervousness show. She searched in the room finding the eyes of Dorna and Genna in the back. Dorna gave her an assuring smile as did Genna, but she looked also expecting. Then Sansa looked left, seeing that Tyrion seemed not to care to sit right, he nearly laid in his seat his head between his shoulders, he blew air out of his bloated cheeks looking bored.

Sansa blushed, feeling embarrassed for her husband and so gathering courage she touched his arm, squeezing a bit to get his attention. He literary flung towards her with a questioning look. She pleaded him with her eyes to at least sit upright. Immediately he sat up and, even if the throne was too large for him, he found a graceful way of sitting.

He turned to her like a child hoping for a praise because he had done something right and she gave him the satisfaction with a smile of hers.

"Everybody who has a request to put forth may speak now." The fat usher raised his voice again and Sansa was pleased to notice that seemingly nobody witnessed her interaction with Tyrion because of the sun behind them.

Two men stepped forward, wearing crests Sansa didn't recognise. It was definitely time for her to learn all crests of the West, not only of the big Houses.

"The ugly truth is." Sansa discerning Tyrion's voice whispering in her ear again, she gripped the lioness heads tight to redirect the tingle in her belly. What was wrong with her? "Ruling mostly means to play parents for bickering Lords who act like children or working over boring numbers of taxes. But it's actually good, the alternative is war." He laid his hand on her arm again, this time Sansa listened to him tensed. "But don't worry if this should happen the only thing we have to do is showing our presence here, assuring our bickering children that we have everything under control."

Sansa turned her head to him not sure what to think. He squeezed her arm and smiled assuring before turning to his Bannermen. Sansa refocused on them too.

"Gawen Westerling, Lord of the Crag." The first man with seashells on his coat was introduced by the usher, Korad, Sansa finally remembered the man's name.

"My Lord, my Lady." The Lord of the Crag greeted them with another bow. Sansa receipted his greetings with her hand seeing how his eyes were pressed together. "I am here to demand justice. Lord Damon Marbrand has ceased two goldmines south of my land, belonging to my family."

"A lie, these goldmines were offered as guarantee for a loan House Westerling couldn't repay and were taken under this agreement." A rangy young man with a burning tree on his doublet stood up.

"Ser Addam is not right my Lord, more time had been granted but…."

"So you don't deny the loan?" Tyrion interrupted the Lord of the Crag, sounding calm considering of this fight. He had been right, Sansa really saw just two fighting children. "The goldmines had been offered as guarantee?"

"My Lord…We were guaranteed more time…an entire month…this is an outrage" The Lord stuttered, pleading with his hands.

"He lied." Tyrion whispered in her ear again, troubling Sansa for a moment. "Or what do you think?" Her opinion? Why her, she couldn't even find out if her husband lied or not.

"Why should he lie? He is a Lord." Sansa whispered back, feeling the pressed together eyes of the room on her and Tyrion while they had their heads together. It made her uncomfortable, but what bewildered her more was this feeling being so near to Tyrion, feeling the radiated heat of his skin on hers.

"To gain something." Tyrion said, driving a doubting look out of her. What would he gain? He would have to pay his debts anyway. "There is always more than one purpose, see." He turned and eyed the Lords waiting for them.

The Lord of the Crag jumped from one feet to another while the other one just stood there calm.

"The Westerlings are poor, their mines empty, I doubt they will ever be able to pay a debt. But they are proud and they won't admit it. Claiming they had been promised more time means they can claim they could have paid if the evil Imp wouldn't have found in favour of House Marbrand. Because you see, Addam here is not only heir of Ashemark but also a good friend of my dear brother not to mention the bound Lannisters have with House Marbrand." Tyrion pointed at the copper haired man. "Westerling wants to use my reputation to claim his honour is untouched and he would just be a victim. A victim that is solvent." Tyrion gave her a knowing grin, but Sansa wasn't so sure. "I will destroy this little plan."

"Or it could just be a misunderstanding." Sansa offered an explanation. "He could have just confused the dates." Sansa found Tyrion's analysis paranoid, a noble Lord playing such a game. No, she couldn't believe that this would be dishonourable. Tyrion didn't look persuaded but turned his head, maybe he considered it.

Sansa's thoughts were interrupted by a throat-clearing from the Lord of the Crag.

"My Lord?" He asked, clearly uncomfortable but also annoyed.

"Lord Westerling." Tyrion turned to him, letting Sansa sat back too. "As far as I see it, Lord Damon had all right to take these mines." Westerling opened his mouth, Sansa could see he wanted to protest but Tyrion cut him off. "I know from the loan, you don't deny it but still you come here and _demand _of me to undone what was the right of House Marbrand. I should punish you for this impertinence." Tyrion paused what gave Sansa the chance to look at him, he didn't look mad, more amused, he quickly glanced to her, smirking. "But my lovely wife let me consider to give you the question of doubt. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding between you two, so I hereby decide that House Westerling will receive the mines, and all gold dug until the end of the term, back when they pay their debts until named term." He paused and grinned at the Seashell Lord.

The hall was silent as a crypt, nobody had expected that, Westerling and Marbrand just starred at Tyrion who looked very self-satisfied with his rule.

But Sansa blushed, she was surprised the most, he had listened to her, actually considered her thoughts. It made her feel proud, good. The tingling in her belly was back, this time even stronger.

Jon

Jon was sitting in a corner of the yard of Winterfell, searching a bit solitude from the day. It was cold, the summer was ending but he didn't care he liked it. Ghost lied to his feet and Jon petted him absently, his head still booming from last night. He had been foolish enough to think he could beat Tyrion's cousins with wine.

Lancel and the others had taken him aside and declared it would be time for him to get used to the way they drank wine in the West. But Jon was sure it was their way to have a little joke on his expenses.

Lancel, Tyrek, Lucion, Willem and Cleos had come to Winterfell with Sansa and Tyrion, together with Bannermen, knights and soldiers and servants of House Lannister. Jon liked them, they were, even not all his age, Willem were younger, Cleos older, good company. They were Lannisters and so had a certain sort of arrogance at them but after a few days the feeling of annoyance about it had passed, after Jon had gotten to know them better.

Now they were friends, they drank with Jon, Robb and Theon, went hunting or riding out with them, playing cards or dices, making fun. They also visited the brothel together once, even if Jon hadn't visited a whore and so had to endure their mocking. But it was only friendly mocking. Cleos had the worse stand in the group, he had to endure even more than Jon for being a bastard, because he was a Frey.

Jon was glad it worked out so well with them, he would know somebody when he arrived in the Westerlands, it would be easier. And he had no problem with their idiosyncrasies. Like the time they displayed it when the marriage proposals from the Westerlands flew in and they took them.

They had sat together with Robb, Theon and Jon in the hall drinking when Maester Luwin brought the envelopes. Jon had been surprised that he had gotten some himself. Lancel had snapped them away from him and opened it tottering.

"Westerling!" He had laughed out. "Believe me even as the bastard you are you should consider _this_ an insult." He had hung his arm around Jon and had babbled: "Westerling are poorer than the merchants of Lannisport, or a whore in a brothel. You can do much better. Ask Theon, even the Ironborn wouldn't bother to plunder the Crag."

Alone the prospect of marriage was still something Jon had to get used too. He was a bastard but nobody of the Lannisters seemed to care.

"You are family now." Cleos had once said to him. "Related by marriage but a liked relative. So you are in the inner circle, Lannisters and family taken as Lannisters by them. They don't make a difference treating trueborn or not. Ask Joy, Lord Gerion's bastard. Nobody would dare to treat her different. One little Lord once refused to betroth his son with her, calling her worthless bastard. You don't want to know what the late Lord Tywin did to him."

In Jon's view Lannisters were weird, they had the reputation to be selfish and ruthless and not without a reason. Jon was not illusionary, anyone of them would do anything, kill anybody if it's would benefit them or their family. But behind all this were a well hidden part Jon couldn't understand, yet.

Jon held his head, hoping for a fresh breeze to relieve his headache. This sweet wine had gone straight into his head, he would have to be more careful. But it had been a nice distraction, from all the tension since the raven arrive that the King was dead and his father Regent and what was even more important a welcome rest.

Since Lord Tyrion had built the saddle for Bran he wanted to ride out every day, after finishing his lessons with Maester Luwin, another issue the little Lord made disappear. Jon was glad Bran was better, happy even but because Robb had to attend his duties as Lord and Sansa claimed she would need some time with her husband since Bran was better know, Jon had no will to find out what she meant, it was for Jon to accompany Bran.

He loved his brother dearly but ridding out for hours every day was exhausting. Theon and some of the Lannisters came with them what was good but still. Jon had to be vigilant the entire time especially since the incident with the Wildlings. They had nearly killed Bran, but only their woman had survived and had to stay as servant.

Theon had saved Bran with an arrow as well as the direwolves had done their part. Theon and Jon had thought they all had gotten off lightly, thought again. None of them had anticipated Sansa's later reaction, her tantrum and screaming how careless they had been was terrifying. Since then at least fifty men had to protect Bran riding out and the last thing Jon wanted was one of them telling Sansa he wouldn't be vigilant enough, she would probably rip his head off.

A rock rolled in front of his feet, Jon looked up and found Rickon stomped over the yard with Shaggydog at his side. He looked annoyed and disgusted in some way.

"What's wrong?" He asked his brother, lifting his head. Rickon turned to him and stuck his tongue out, nodding towards the Godswood.

"They snuggling again." A barked laughter escaped Jon, understanding what Rickon meant and he was immediately punished by his head. Rickon looked unyielding. "Do they ever stop?"

"I don't think so." Rickon had the unusual talent to walk in into Sansa and Tyrion's private moments. Kissing, hugging, showing affection, luckily he hadn't seen more but it was a talent Jon didn't envy him for. Rickon was always disgusted by it. "Just try to forget."

"I can't, it's like they are in my head, eating each other." He nagged, stepping closer to Jon. "But you have it worse when you're at Casterly Rock you will have to see that every day."

"I am sure the castle is big enough to hide from them." Jon smiled and laid his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I will be fin."

"You could hide in the dragon holes." Rickon uttered out, causing Jon's head to scream from his loud voice. He hold his head and replied:

"There are no sea dragons at Casterly Rock Rickon. Sansa herself had said so."

"I don't believe her." Rickon whispered to him. "It's like when mother said there wouldn't be monsters under the bed so I wouldn't go to hunt them."

"There are no monsters under your bed." Jon stated bewildered.

"Yes because I am older now, they are afraid of me and fled." Rickon insisted looking determined. "I already talked with Sansa as soon as mother allows it I travel to Casterly Rock and hunt a sea dragon. I will bring his head back to hang it over my bed." Rickon declared. But then his eyes widened as if he had said something unintentional and added hastily. "But you can't tell Sansa I want to hunt them, promise."

"Promise." Jon smiled brightly at Rickon and wanted to add something when he saw Maester Luwin hurrying over the yard. The old man spotted Jon and walked to him.

"Call Lord Tyrion and meet me in your father's solar." He said urgent without bothering to explain and hurried away. Jon had no idea what was going on but the look in the Maester's face hadn't let room for questions. Jon stood up, patted Rickon's shoulder and walked to the Godswood. Stealing his head for facing Sansa and her husband, hoping they would still just kiss. Lancel once told him from time to time nobody was allowed at the lakes in the holes under Casterly Rock and he should think his part. Jon had and now he feared the hot springs of Winterfell had been all too welcoming.

-##-

To Jon's eternal thanks they hadn't been in the spring, but hadn't been happy either to be interrupted by Jon walking with his hand over his eye through the Godswood calling out loud he would come. But now they were in the Lord's solar together with Robb and Maester Luwin who received a raven with the crest of Jon's father.

"Lord Stannis and Lord Renly, challenging prince Joffrey's claim and each crowned himself to the King of Westeros. Lord Renly has married Margaery Tyrell and marches on King's Landing. Lord Stannis on the other hand seems to wait on Dragonstone so far. Lord Stark has called all loyal men of the realm to the banners." The Maester's voice was steady, hard. "All who disobey his call will be branded traitors."

Jon gulped and looked around in the room he had a really bad feeling. Robb was reading the letter with a serious expression, his hand shaking a bit. Jon looked down and found his own hands shaking, they were at war. Sansa had taken Tyrion's hand and looked down on him with a knowing expression. He nodded and towards her and turned to the round.

"It's time to go for us. We are at war and we must be back at Casterly Rock."

* * *

**Again sorry, I haven't written he next chapter yet but I will force myself to**

**And I will invest in more security**


	14. Cat III

I know I am late and sorry but I just finished it

Unbetaed and rough, sorry again

I own nothing

* * *

Tyrion

_A day before the day when they were holding court_

"And, what do you think Sansa?" Tyrion asked his young wife with anticipation not a blink after she put down the large leather bound book from Essos, a collection of stories about a hero from Asshai with a flaming sword.

They sat in his favourite spot in the library of Casterly Rock. The large, six floor high, dome hall, with, ornamented with gold, balconies hanging from the sides of the former crater contained lines and lines of red bookshelves, full with thousands of books from all over the world. The second largest collection of books known in Westeros, only beaten by the Maesters of the Citadel. Tyrion loved this place since he had been a child and had always fled here, hiding from the world and his father and sister.

The books were always his friends, he could dive into them, in the library it didn't matter if he was ugly and stunned, here only counted his mind and he had more than enough of it, maybe a compensation from the gods for his lack of height.

However every time he was here he simply retreated in one of the hidden corners, surrounded by bookshelves, a cushioned bench, a low table and a small fireplace the only thinks to keep him company and the books with all their wonders. He had done so much there, alone and free this place had become his favourite in the Rock and because of that he had decided to share it with Sansa.

He had guided her on the bench and had gone to fill the low table with books, dozens of them, some of his favourite and some even new for him. She was very reserved, still shy around him, the still not ending bane of their marriage, he had tried to overcome or better smoothen this obstacle with wine and pastries and it had worked, in parts.

They had sat together on the bench, reading in a book she had picked from the large pile. They had been very close, so close Tyrion could felt her warmth, only a little bit closer and he could have leaned his head against her. But he knew how nervous she was when it came to touching or intimacy, no matter how much he wished it would be different there was no use of pushing her, it would only drive her away from him and that was the last he wanted.

So they had sat side by side, in silence, a few inches between them, reading the old book she had on her lap, only exchanging looks when it came to the question if the other had finished the page. She was faster than he was, only for a few words or a sentences but Tyrion still was impressed and added it to the things he adored at her.

The list was already so long that he thought of writing it down, on the other hand if he forgot a point he would have the pleasure to come to discovered it again. Right now he waited for one of his favourite, her telling him what she liked or not liked, expressing her own opinion, he liked this much more than her just agreeing to all he said, not to mention that he intended to use all she told him to his own advantage. Knowing what she likes meant knowing what to use to make her happy.

He already made sure she had all gowns and bards and whatever she wanted, he didn't care for the gold, the smile when she was happy and the knowledge that he had caused this beautiful smile was more enough, and he wanted more.

"And?" He asked her again after a while of silence, eying her carefully. Sansa looked down on the book, sighed and laid it aside. Glancing over to him for a split moment before averting her eyes shy.

"He killed his own wife, his love just for a stupid weapon." Sansa exhaled low, depressive, Tyrion was not sure, but he had the feeling this book hadn't been such a good idea. "Isn't he supposed to be the hero, why would he kill her?"

"You don't like it?" Tyrion asked her carefully.

"Did you?"

"I stopped enjoying the story after he killed the lion." Tyrion replied, leaning back. "I for sure will look different at Thoros of Myr and his flaming sword now, suspiciously searching for dead lions." He had lowered his voice conspiratorially at the end, hoping to lighten the mood with a little show. And yes, a little smile appeared in Sansa's face, she was ammused.

"I didn't like it either, way too dark and depressing for my taste, who would kill a beloved character so brutally?" Sansa placed the closed book carefully on the side, before taking her cup and leaned back, seemingly to be at the same level than him, but looking out not to be too close to him.

"Next time we will choose more wisely." Tyrion announced raising his cup. "A story with valiant knights and fair beautifully singing maiden to be rescued." Tyrion cheered to her before letting a grin peek over his face. This was a fitting occasion for something he had in mind for long, a whisper he had heard. "I heard you could sing beautifully as well."

"Oh, I …" Sansa's cheeks turned red and she folded her hands in her lap, starring at them. "I suppose I can but I am not sure if you … if you would…" Sansa was visibly searching for words and Tyrion already feared he would have made a mistake. "I am not sure if you would like it, compared to the singers you could hire I am just…"

"Sansa" He straightened up and slid closer to her, he wanted to palace his hands on her shoulder but thought better of it and placed it at the back of the bench. "All I know is that you are extraordinary when it's comes to singing, like you are extraordinary in all you do, because you are extraordinary." He praised her not very creative, but at least true. She slowly raised her head to look at him, he put on an assuring smile, hoping he hadn't failed to bring her out of whatever he had caused her so foolishly. The only thing he had wanted was her to sing for him, only for him, just for once.

"I am not, my mother maybe but I." She looked clearly uncertain, so Tyrion came a bit closer, hoping he wouldn't be too close.

"I believe you, I am sure your mother is quiet a Lady but you should believe me too. You are extraordinary." Taking a leap of faith he took her hands in his, slowly circling around her knuckles. Her skin was so soft. He looked up and saw her smile shyly.

Not wanting to overstretch his good luck Tyrion let her hands free and gripped a book from the pile, once he knew was full of stories with valiant knights and fair maiden.

"Shall we?"

Cat

They reached the top of the hill at the Causeway and clearly beheld the ruins of Moat Cailin out of the fog from the swamp a far. Cat steadied her horse for a moment to admire the view. It had been a long journey, but now they finally reached the North. They would be back at Winterfell soon, she would see Robb, Sansa, Bran and Rickon again.

She thanked the gods their journey had been easy, nobody had bothered her and Ser Rodrik. Back in King's Landing they had decided to use horses to travel back north instead of waiting for a ship, this way had the benefit of no delay from waiting of one of the rare ships traveling straight to White Harbour. They travelled on the Kingsroad north, disguised as father and daughter, not very creative but effective.

But on the downside the quiet and long journey had given Cat time to wander off within her mind. The betrayal of her former friend stung deep into her heart. She had spent days turning in her sleep, pondering over what Petyr had done, what he had attempted to do and the greatest question for her at all, why?

Had it been her fault? She knew he had fancied her as a boy, more than it would have been appropriate. He had fought a duel for her and lost humiliated, was all this the core of his deeds, wounded pride and a broken heart? No matter, nothing excused what he had done, what he had tried to do.

Fear had come to her in her sleep as well, more often than she had thought, and mostly baseless fear. What it would have meant for her children, for Ned if Petyr had succeeded. By now Cat knew that whatever he had planned he most likely would have caused great pain and suffering for them. Trying to split Ned and the Lannisters.

But he failed, she should be without worries now. Her children were save from him and Ned had most likely arranged himself with the Queen and her brother, so why was this thought not making her feel better?

When they had reached the Riverlands Cat had thought about taking a detour to visit her childhood home, Riverrun. She could have met with her father and brother. She had heard Hoster Tully would be sick and she had the feeling her poor father wouldn't live much longer, and she wanted to see him, a least for one last time. She perhaps could have asked him if he had an explanation for Petyr's behaviour. After all he had been her father's ward for so long.

Cat had also hoped for an answer to another question of hers, one that stung at least as hard and painful as Petyr's betrayal, why Lysa had helped him.

At first Cat hadn't wanted to believe that her sister would have anything to do with what Petyr had done, but as more as she had thought about her sister's letter, her words so much like Petyr's, doubts had clouded her believes. Without the letter Ned would have never left Winterfell and Petyr wouldn't have had the opportunity to sow mistrust. It all fitted way to good together.

The thought alone her sister could have helped Petyr to divide her family was too much for Cat. Maybe at Riverrun she would have found an answer, something that would explain Lysa's doings. So Cat had been determent to ride to Riverrun by the time they had reached an inn at the crossroad. Yes, she had wanted to be at Winterfell as soon as possible, wanted to see Robb, Bran and Rickon and Sansa again, it had already hurt enough that she hadn't been able to see Arya in King's Landing. But she had felt that she had to go, had to do the right thing, like Ned, who tried to find out what Petyr wanted and dealt with the dangerous lioness at the same time. She had found ease in the thought that Sansa was at Winterfell, taking care of her boys.

But all her plans had been thrown into disarray by the rumours she had heard at the inn, war was in the air, the King was dying.

Fear, it seemed it would never let go of her. Forgotten had been Riverrun, or Petyr's schemes. Without hesitation she had ridden to the nearest Sept and had demanded answers from the Septon, she hadn't liked them.

Only days ago Robert Baratheon had died, leaving Ned as his son's Regent. Even after his dead this man couldn't let her husband back to her, forcing him to stay away from his family because he had failed as a King and Ned was to pick up the pieces and to make everything whole again. Cat had forgotten herself, cursing in the Sept when she had heard the news.

But to crown it all the bad news came with company, like they always did. The King's brothers had decided they would be better Kings than Robert's trueborn heir. Ned, her poor Ned was once again forced to go to war, fighting again for a throne he wouldn't sit on.

The rest of the day and the following night Cat had prayed to the mother to watch over her family, to watch over Ned and Arya in King's Landing in the centre of this upcoming war, to watch over Robb who certainly had to follow his father into battle, to watch over Bran and Rickon in Winterfell, to watch over Sansa and in the end she prayed to the mother she would watch over Lord Tyrion as well, so he could watch over Sansa too.

At dawn they had ridden north again, whatever Petyr might have planned it wasn't important anymore, her family needed her back at Winterfell. First she had though about joining Robb and the northern forces, helping her son, watching over him, but Ned would do so for sure. No, Bran and Rickon, they would eventually be alone in Winterfell, she was needed there, nowhere else.

"My Lady!" Ser Rodrik Cassel called out, drawing her attention towards the ruins of the stronghold, which was according to Ned still impregnable, even if she doubted it. Between the old towers appeared rider, coated in red.

Even from afar Cat recognized the Lannister flags, Lord Tyrion's entourage. What were they doing here?

For a moment Cat was puzzled but then it dawned her, they were on their way back West. Schooling herself mumbling for not thinking of the fact that the war would demand Lord Tyrion back in the Westerlands, if not on the head of an army, Cat spurred her horse and cantered down the hill towards the men. Because wherever the little Lord was Sansa wasn't far away for sure.

Her heart hitching a bit higher in joyful anticipation that she would see Sansa again so soon. Of course she wouldn't stay in Winterfell in this situation, Cat just hadn't thought about it and her joy to see her again turned sour when she realised this now would also mean goodbye for a long time. She had been used to Sansa around again in Winterfell, that she had the luxury to ignore the fact that her little girl would leave one day, back in the lion's den. But she couldn't let this thought making her angry right now.

"Stop!" One of the red coated knights in front of the trek screamed at them, holing one hand up, stopping Cat and Ser Rodrik when they reached their sight. "Who is there?"

"Who are you, denying entrance to the North to the Lady of Winterfell?" Ser Rodrik ranted at the knight, a young man Cat knew from seeing, with his most threatening voice, ridding close to him. Visibly taken aback by the old man the knight looked at Ser Rodrik. Seeking to end this before it began Cat lifted her hood, eying the man with a pointing gaze.

"My Lady." The knight's eyes widened when he recognized her and he quickly attempted a deep bow while sitting in his saddle. "Pardon me." He mumbled in the caudate of his horse before rising again. "Ser Geoff of Lannisport, at your service."

"Bring me to your Lord and Lady." Cat ordered him, accepting his greeting with a quick wave of her hand. Nodding sharply the young man turned his horse around and led the way through the long lines of mounted knights, soldiers and servants.

Passing by Cat eyed them all carefully, when all of them had arrived at Winterfell so many months ago she had thought it would be excessive to come with so many soldiers, but now she was soothed by their numbers, Sansa would have enough many guards to watch over her on her way back west.

As longer their followed the knight as more familiar the faces became. Cat recognized Lord Tyrion's cousins and then she beheld the dark head of hair of a man not coated in red. Jon Snow rode in the mid of Lannisters. He bowed quickly after he saw her, but Cat turned her head away, not wanting to see him, or notice him. Then she saw the Direwolf, this enormous white beast, he had grown even more, she asked herself if the other wolves had grown as much as the albino one.

She had not much time to think of it because they finally reached the carriage Sansa had arrived in at Winterfell. It stood on the road while some men tried to fix an axis of a previous carriage that blocked the entire trek. Cat brought her horse to stop and unceremoniously dropped out of the saddle before one of the many servants surrounding the carriage could come up to her to help. Cat smoothed her gown and marched towards the door of the huge carriage, only glancing back shortly to signal Ser Rodrik that she would need time. The old man understood prompt and guided his horse away, letting one of the servants taking care of Cat's.

Cat was itchy from the anticipation of seeing her girl again, they had only been separated a few weeks but it had felt like the two years prior, it hurt, like it hurt to be separated from all her children. Before she could reach the red golden door with the Lannister crest it was opened with a loud boom and Sansa stormed out, practically jumped in her arms, she swung her arms around Cat, her heavy hair falling in Cat's face.

"Mother." She squeaked happy, fastening her gip. "I already feared I wouldn't see you again before returning to Casterly Rock." Stirred Cat quickly got rid of her gloves and started stroking her daughter's head.

"It seems the gods had something different in mind." Cat whispered in Sansa's ear before resting her chin on her shoulder, looking up she saw a small figure appearing in the doorframe of the carriage. The little Lord bowed to her, smiling somehow before disappearing in the carriage again.

In the meanwhile Sansa had loosen herself from the embrace and took a step back, glancing around. This open sign of affection wasn't very ladylike and it seemed Sansa remembered that right now.

"Do you want to come in?" Sansa asked hopefully glancing to the carriage. Cat smiled at her daughter and walked up to Sansa, lying her arm around her she let her guide her into the carriage.

Cat had never seen the inside of the huge vehicle which brought her daughter back to Winterfell, and now she was glad for it, because inside it was even more out of modesty than at the outside. Golden ornaments, together with benches at three sides, cluttered with red cushions. There was even a little coal oven in one corner, as well as a door to what appeared to be a second room in the backside.

Stepping inside Cat was immediately jumped at by a huge grey wolf, wanting to be petted. Cat thoughts had been come true Sansa's wolf had grown herself, it nearly filled the entire space between the benches, more like a pony than a wolf in size. Cat stroke Lady's fur, feeling how soft it was, it shined in the lights of the lamps, without a question this was a noble animal.

After a short while Cat shooed the wolf away so she could sit, only to witness how the animal, as if it wouldn't be inappropriate, jumped on one of the benches, seating herself on a rather large cushion next to Sansa's husband who sat on one end near a window, eying the wolf carefully. Sansa seemed not to care and seated herself opposite from Lord Tyrion, smiling up to Cat. Cat sighed in disbelieve and a little motherly judging and defeat when she seated herself finding wolf hair all over the cushions. She put a pile of books and to her bewilderment two pair of needles out of her way before sinking in the soft pollsters.

Sansa had already given up her any kind of appropriate seating position, her legs tugged under her she turned towards Cat, leaning on the wall. Cat wanted to say something, a thousand questions on her mind when a sound drew her attention to the other side of the cabin.

Lord Tyrion was struggling very noisy with Lady who nudged him in the side repeatedly not giving up until he sighed very loudly and allowed the wolf to lay his head in his lap and started to pet her. It was a strange sight, the wolf's head was nearly as large as the little man's entire torso. The man glanced over to Cat with a defeated smile.

Free from the distraction Cat turned towards her daughter, seeing her visibly amused observing what happened.

"How are you Sansa?" Cat finally asked the first of many questions she wanted to ask.

"I'm fine" Sansa assured her smiling, but then the smile lost a bit of its brightness and she added: "Bran has woken up."

"And?" Cat's heart hitched by the words, but Sansa's fainting smile made her fear to ask more.

"He can't move his legs, Maester Luwin is not sure if he will ever walk again" Sansa's voice was small, her eyes fixed to her folded hands. Cat felt her stomach turn to ice. Her sweet boy, her poor little child, how hard must it be for him, and where had she been, his mother, away. "He has taken it very hard, first, but he is better now." Sansa assured Cat quick, making her look up to her daughter.

"How?" Cat asked without hesitation. "How can he? And Robb and Rickon how are they? Was all right?" Now the questions sputtered out of her, Cat needed to know what had happened, she needed to know now.

"Robb called to the banners and will march south soon, maybe you meet him on your way and Rickon …." Like on a mark a jolt went through the carriage and it started moving again. Disbelieving that their time should already be up Cat found her daughter starring at her, not finding her words. Cat's heart fell, this was too soon.

A loud booming noise interrupted Cat's worries, drawing her attention at the other side of the cabin where lord Tyrion hammered with his fist against the window.

"Milord?" A voice came from the other side of the frame quickly after the Lord stopped hammering.

"Stop, we will camp here tonight." Lord Tyrion ordered through the wooden frame in a commanding tone.

"But milord it's not even midday." A hesitating protest followed.

"No discussion, stop, or have I to do it myself?" Sounding very impatient Cat's son-in-law opened the window and barked: "Do as I say, now!"

He closed the window forcefully, looking up at Sansa and Cat and shrugged with a small grin before attending to pet wolf in his lap again, as if nothing had happened.

Cat turned her head to her daughter who grinned wide. Another forceful jolt brought the carriage to a stop again and Cat could hear busy noise from outside the cabin. They were making a camp, she had won time with Sansa. She looked up to the man to thank, who still acted like nothing had happened.

-##-

The entire rest of the day Cat had been able to spend with Sansa, and the most time even alone, after lunch her husband had excused himself, taking the wolf with him he had left.

Sansa had told Cat everything she had desired, about Robb, Bran, Rickon. A great ballast had fallen from Cat's heart when she came to know that, against all chances, Bran had found some kind of normality, that Rickon was well.

But for every worry vanquished a new had risen, Robb, her son, her firstborn, prepared himself to go to war. In Cat's eyes he was still just a boy. The thought of him marching into battle was terrifying, the only solace she found was that Ned would be there, with him.

Cat had needed some time alone, processing her thoughts, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with Sansa but what good would have come of it with her distracted by her fears. She had taken a walk, to clear her mind.

War, so many dangers, It was said Renly would have the Reach forces and nearly one hundred thousand men behind him, Stannis the royal fleet and experienced soldiers. And there was still Petyr and his schemes, what if somebody else would try what he failed in? War made people paranoid, letting them see enemies where none where.

At dusk Cat had started wandering between the tends and carriages, made between the ruins of Moat Cailin, trying to blend out all the sounds and chatter from the hundreds of Westermen, what would they do if paranoia stroke the Queen? Cat had no doubt Cersei Lannister would be dangerous for Ned, no matter, and what would Lord Tyrion do then, she was his sister after all? She had wandered off, finding herself alone, alone with her thoughts and fears and doubts.

It was already dark night when she returned to the camp, tired she walked directly towards the carriage, hoping Sansa would still wait for her. After all, they would part tomorrow, and only the gods knew when they would see again.

The carriage was protected by a large circle of guards, standing not far apart. Cat had to go very close to one of them to be recognized and be granted to continue walking. But on her way to the carriage she began to feel observed, as if half a dozen eyes would follow every move of her out in the dark, it felt uncomfortable, the guard circle was at least forty feet away from the carriage in the centre, there shouldn't be anything in there.

"My Lady?" A dark voice appeared behind her and Cat startled, nearly jumped by the surprise. Her heart hammered while she turned around finding Lord Tyrion standing behind her, accompanied by Lady, the wolf over towering the little man by far. "Pardon, I had no intention to startle you."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't have." Cat snapped at him, trying to calm down

"I apologize, but you are the one wandering around alone my Lady." He justified himself, walking up to her. "I thought you would be with Sansa, that's why I return just now."

"Letting Sansa lone?" Cat asked with a suspicious glance to the guards, avoiding his unspoken question.

"Believe me, she is well protected, better than you can see." He answered cryptic and gestured her to lead the way to the carriage. "I hope you two spent a more entertaining day than I did, sending ravens and overlooking war affords as good as possible from here."

"So you will lead your men into battle then?" Cat asked out of curiosity, while walking towards the carriage again. Her question was answered with a loud chuckle.

"My Lady, how could I be of use in a battle, rather than scaring away the more frightened enemies?" He looked up at her, even in the few light she could see the mocking in his eyes. "No, my uncle Kevan will lead an army from the Westerlands to King's Landing. He is already on his way. I will stay at the Rock, but conscript more troops, just in case. Even if I doubt they will be needed. I am sure the war will be over sooner rather than later. But if not I might have to go to war too, maybe riding on her." Obviously joking he reached up with his arm and pattered the Direwolfe's diamond circled neck. Only to be lightly tackled by the wolf, thrown out of balance. "Or maybe not." He struggled to find his posture back and continued as if nothing had happened. "However the sooner this all is over the better, for all of us."

Suddenly Cat came to a stand, gazing down at her son-in-law, her doubts still in mind.

"Promise me something, Lannister."

"My Lady?" He came to a stop as well, turning to her.

"This war could cost much, too much and Sansa…"

"Do you think I would let anything happen to her?" He rose his voice, stepping nearer to her.

"All my family is in danger, not only Sansa and not only from the obvious enemies"

"Through Sansa they are my family as well now, and a Lannister always does what is best for his family."

"And what is if your family would be the danger to them?"

"Nobody will cause Sansa sorrow, nobody, no matter what, I will be prevent it." He bowed his head and turned around to continue walking, and Cat followed him.

* * *

**Hope you forgive me and liked it**

**Review please**

**By the way, I will make a new poll, because I like when my readers participate in a story, I already included some of your wishes, just wait for it**

**Believe me I have and what I plan will change a lot as well of the entire path of the story**

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	15. Ned III

First things first, more notes at the end

Hi, I am back

This chapter is a filler in the truest sense to knot up loose ends and build up what comes hopefully next week

It seems I have lost my beta, again. I am not sure why I am surprised, it's always the same one they just stop answering your mails, without explanation, without knowing why. SO I decided to stop bothering about a beta, I know I doubt It will be beneficial if I can't discuss my ideas with somebody, ask for guidance or have somebody check my work, but so be it

I own nothing

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Sansa

_The day of Sansa's first court, just later_

Petitioner for petitioner were addressing them over the cause of the day, asking, pleading or demanding whatever their business was. Lords and knights stood before Sansa and her husband while the sun slowly set in the west, colouring the room in deeper shades of red.

Sansa had sit through the entire session, like Septa Mordane had told her, straight, her chin high with as much grace and dignity she could manage, and now she paid the price. Her entire body ached in pain, even the cushioned throne she sat in didn't help any more preventing her buttocks to pain her. But she didn't move, it wasn't appropriate for a Lady to lose her composure, she had to endure.

But she now understood why her husband had sat so ungracefully at the beginning of the court day, she also felt guilty because she had made him sit straight, and he hadn't changed his position. He must suffer greatly at the moment but didn't move, and Sansa suspected it was because of her, to please her. She wished he wouldn't do that, she didn't want him to suffer just because she felt embarrassed by the way he had sat.

The only light at the horizon was that the day was nearly over. Another neat trick by the ancient Lannisters, the court ended when the sun was down behind the sea, meaning with starting the court just when the sun was already in the west, the time was very limited, forcing petitioners to come to the point rather than babbling for hours. Also it spared the one on the throne to sit through an ordeal the entire day.

They had managed much this day, the Lords and knights were already through and before them stood the last of the merchants were about to praise them because of their decision over some taxation complaints, the only left were the commoners, peasants from the Lannister lands, many would have to come back next time, but the important were dealt with.

Aside all the complaints Sansa had because of her seating position, she looked very pleased back on her experience. It had been exiting to sit above them all, being the object of their attention. Tyrion had included her in every decision he had made, consulted her, listened to her. On me occasions she had even been the one making the decision, and proclaiming it. More than one of the petitioners had even addressed her. For the first time she really felt like the Lady of the Westerlands, not only their Lord's wife. It felt great.

The men were happy, seeing her smile at them generously, greeting them just with a wink of her hand and her husband encouraged her in this. Sansa glanced to him, sitting there in his seat, humming low so only Sansa could hear it. He looked good in the seat, with the sun in his back, illuminating his pale hair like it would be on fire, and the shadows it threw benefited his features.

Korad the usher drew her attention back to the gathered mass of people in front of her, the merchant's praise was over and he had left, now a poorly clothed young man stepped forward. His patched clothed looked like they had been made for a much smaller man, he had his hands balled to fists and his face was distorted in anger. Sansa didn't like it.

The young man, he looked nearly thirty, but the missing of a beard betrayed his youth, bowed deeply, determination in his face, but also something that looked like fear.

"Milord, Milady." He started after Tyrion gestured him to, his voice didn't matched his appearance, it was sweet, like honey. "I am here to report milord great injustice, and to ask for justice." The voice started to tremble, Sansa was totally bewildered, no clue what was going on suddenly in her mind she turned to Tyrion, seeing him leaning forward with a serious expression as if he suspected something. "Milord, I live in Lannisport, as a dock worker. Until yesterday in the house of my father, with my mother and sister." He sobbed, Sansa could see tears, an uncomfortable feeling spread in her stomach. "Men came, men of the city watch, they took my sister away and when my father went to find them, to bring her back they…they ..." There was a pause, the young man looked shaken. "Both haven't returned but other came, from the city watch and took the house. I don't know what to do Milord. "Sansa sucked in a great amount of air, shocked by the man's tale." They said we have to go, or they would throw us into the see."

"Stop it." Sansa whispered to Tyrion, grabbing his hand. "Why?"

"Ser Mearport." Tyrion called out for the commander of the city watch, his voice loud and dark, giving her hand a warm tug, while the young man tried visible to hold his tears. Sansa pitied him, not sure what else she could do, he wanted justice, but why should the city watch do such a thing? Sansa knew Ser Mearport, he was an old and very polite man, sometimes he reminded her of Ser Rodrick. "Do you have anything to say about this?" Tyrion asked the commander after he stepped forward.

"Pardon my Lord but I don't, I hear of it the first time." Sansa saw with surprise that the so proud commander suddenly looked to his feet, looking embarrass.

"Enlighten me, commander. Didn't I pay you to bring justice to my city?" Tyrion fixed the man, Sansa glanced to him, seeing how he leaned further forward.

"My Lord I am sorry but …"

"Enough!" Tyrion shouted. "You will bring me the men, the boy described, as well as his sister and father. Tomorrow so I can see." Tyrion's face had darkened. And if they dared to terrorise my subjects they will face a nice trial by combat …with Ser Gregor as my champion!" Tyrion, fixed the commander before letting go and leaning towards Sansa, she felt very uncomfortable, shocked, aghast, the poor man looked so frightened "I am sorry, that you have to witness this." Tyrion whispered in her ear, and despite all her aghast there was the shiver again.

"We must do something for him" Sansa stated nodding towards the young man. "And you must find his father and sister, and protect them"

"I am not sure if I can. This things happen, there is nothing much to do than react"

"No" Sansa stated clear, looking to him. "Please you have to."

"Then I will bring justice." He nodded to her.

"Boy!" Tyrion faced the young man. "My wife wishes you not to suffer anymore, so you will receive your home back and justice

"Milady" The man bowed to her deeply a little smile on his face.

Ned

Once again Ned scanned through the documents spreading all over his desk. The piles of parchment had increased greatly since the war had started. Sighing resigning he dropped the freshly arrived supply reports on the untidy pile to his left, he would attend to it later.

Leaning back in his chair he tried to find some peace for a moment, letting his gaze wander aimlessly through his solar. Now he regretted his decision not to move out of the tower of the Hand and into Maegor's Holdfast, after he had assumed the Regent position. The heat in the tower caused him nothing but discomfort and the thick walls of the Holdfast would have provided much more protection from it, but on the other hand the council, or better what was left of it had counselled him not to, so the impose that the young King would be nothing more than a imprisoned pupped for northern interest wouldn't raise. A rediciulous thought, but with Stannis and Renly claiming the right of the throne for themselves gestures seemed to have increased their value.

So Ned had stayed in the tower, baking in the heat, but with the benefit that he could work without distractions. Still all petitioners went straight to the Holdfast, giving him time to deal with the war.

Yes, the war, once again he was at war, forced to fight, when he wanted nothing more than to be home, at Winterfell. Once again he fought for Robert, or better on his behalf. Like in the Greyjoy rebellion. Robert might have led the battles but he never cared for what he would call minor problems of war, like reinforcements, supply, tactic, strategy. Robert had always been the type of man who preferred to be at the front line in action instead of in a tent, discussing the course of action, leaving Jon Arryn and him dealing with it, like he had in his rise to the throne.

And now Ned fought for Robert's son, because of the promise he had given his old friend on his deathbed. He had promised to protect the boy, making sure he and his siblings would be safe, that he would be a better example for them than their own father had been.

Responsibility Ned hadn't wanted, but he had taken it, for Robert. Another promise he had given standing at a bed stained with blood, and he was determent to keep it. That was why he had taken the seat of the Regent, he would make sure the young prince would rule, rule good when his time was there. Sadly Ned had the impression the boy would need some tutoring in that, it seemed many of Robert's more unfortunate traits had rubbed off on him, but after the war would be over he was sure he would have enough time for that, with the Queens help Ned saw no reason not to succeed. But until then Ned thought it wise if the prince would just observe, with few exceptions, he had to learn what it meant to rule after all, without power, and the Queen agreed.

Queen Cersei and Ned had found a base for a good working relationship, most of the time they were able to find a consent, or even had the same opinion about a topic. Ned had no desire to keep the mother of the heir to the throne away from the power, they had to show unity and she was able to lift some of the burdens away from him, like audiences. Ned had discovered her advice was very useful for him, she lived much longer in the capital and had more experience. They informed each other at daily suppers or when they were walking to council meetings together. The Queen had also opened his eyes to the level of corruption in the capitol, she had showed him whisperers and sorts. They worked well together, Ned trusted her, respected her.

Ned rose from his chair, trying to get his head clear he started pacing the room, the war festered at him, more than he had thought possible. War was never easy, the life with death and responsibility. The first time he had gone to war it had been for his sister, for her safe return, and he failed. The second time for Robert's throne, what had festered at him back then had been his family at home, the fear he wouldn't see them again. But this time was different, because now they were in direct danger. Robb, his son, had ridden down from the North at the head of the northern forces to fight alongside with him. Robb was sixteen, not much younger than he was when he had become Lord of Winterfell and joined Robert. But Ned still saw the little boy, playing with a wooden stick, hurting himself more than once.

Would Ned be able to get this image out of his head on the battlefield? He could, of course place Robb far behind the lines, but how could he demand of others to put their son's at risk when he hid his own in safety?

Ned had given Robb a small command as captain of light cavalry unit. With his wolf at his side and his skills as rider he and his men should make fine scouts. It wasn't the safest place within the army, but not the most dangerous as well. Robb would have experienced men at his side and Ned prayed to the old gods this would be enough to keep his son alive.

Rob was the most exposed in this war. Ned had been relieved to learn from him that he had met his mother on the way south, Cat would be safe at Winterfell together with Bran and Rickon and Ser Rodrick as castellan. Sansa would be safe too, well protected within the walls of Casterly Rock, with her husband and Jon.

But Arya was in danger, here in King's Landing, as well as the royal children, they all were in danger if the city would be taken and whoever wanted the throne would need this city. Ned had found a way to keep her safe, as well as Robert's children, he had sworn to protect.

Ned turned around in his solar walking back to his desk. Anxious about what would come soon he fished the scout's report from the last day out of his documents. He had read it at least ten times over the course of the last days, still the letters never changed.

Renly was only nine days away from the capital and he had one hundred thousand men with him, Highgarden and the Stormlords on his side.

One hundred thousand men, and Ned had eighty.

Robb had brought twenty thousand Northerners, Lord Hoster had sent the same number together with Edmure Tully, Lord Tyrion had sent his uncle with thirty thousand Westermen, the largest part of the army and Ned had been able to recruit another ten thousand out of the crown lands and hedge knights. Eighty thousand, he had hoped for more.

First he had hoped not so many Lords would follow Renly's or Stannis' banner, but he had overestimated their sense of honour, traitors. He had also hoped for the armies of the Vale, the knights of the Vale were feared and Ned knew it was well earned, but Lysa Arryn, his sister-in-law, had only sent Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, claiming he alone would be worth an army.

But Ned knew his uncle-in-law had gone on his own, collecting a few knights willing to follow him while most of the Lords of the Vale followed their Lady's command to stay, even if they wanted not to. Lysa had claimed she would have sent him to avoid being branded as a traitor.

Ned was not sure what to do about the situation, on the one side, she was still family, his wife's sister, the mother of his mentor's son, his widow, but on the other side she had disobeyed when honour and law demanded her to send her armies to aid her King. Ned would have to deal with her that was for sure, but not yet. But he feared he wouldn't be able to avoid a punishment for her.

Same was for the Greyjoys, the Iron Islands had not answered his call to the arms, nothing had come from them. Whatever Balon Greyjoy was planning, it worried Ned. Yes, he had Theon, he had followed Robb and would fight at his side, but this didn't changed the fact that his father disobeyed, another thing he would have to deal with, later.

Rubbing his tired eyes Ned read the report again, eighty thousand against one hundred thousand, he was inferior in numbers and his army had problems with the supply, Renly's got their food from the Reach.

But Ned had one advantage, or even more than one. Renly might had more men, but the most of them were young, knights of the summer, only few of them have ever seen a real battle. In a fight man against man Ned's Northerners had a clear advantage, not enough to tip the scale alone but a start. After all what Ned saw, the Westermen would stand their ground as well. But there was more, the only real soldier Renly had to command his battles was Randyll Tarly, Renly himself was too young, too inexperienced and his new father-in-law Mace Tyrell had not much of a worrier in him too. The beneficial on this situation was, that, after all what Ned heard, Renly didn't want to give up his command, he wanted to lead his knights himself, being the glorious victor. Ned on the other hand could fill rooms with rough and skilled battle commanders as well as famous knights men would follow into the seven hells if necessary.

The Blackfish alone was skilled enough to lead and win the battle, in addition Ned had Ser Kevan Lannister. The old man had been his late brother's most trustworthy adviser and after only a single meeting with him Ned had learned why. But other than his brother Ser Kevan was a man Ned could respect, he lacked cruelty, Ned liked him. Then there was Ser Barristan, his reputation alone was much worth. And there was Ser Jaime, even if Ned didn't like to admit it, he would be very useful. The Greatjon, Karstark and Bolton, his Northerners, men he fought with, Ned didn't doubt their talents. Ned had better men, more skilled man, man that could stand in battles, who had stood in battles.

But would quality beat quantity? Ned hoped so, because he had decided they would meet Renly's army in open battle.

Ned had three choices, staying in King's Landing, defending the city, hoping to throw Renly back, meet him for a battle on an open field or abandoning the capital and building up more forces before starting an offensive.

First, Ned had been in favour of the third option and his commanders had agreed with him, but the Queen had changed his mind. She believed that if the King would abandoning his throne he wouldn't be a King anymore, even if he was still a prince, it sounded much like Tywin Lannister's thoughts but eventually Ned had given in to her.

Maybe she was right, there wouldn't be much more men waiting for him to call them to the arms anyway, not to mention that taking the city would be a hard task for everyone who tried. But he didn't want to wait, cooped up in the city, either so the only way was an open battle. On the King's Road through the King's Wood, three days away, was a place Ned had chosen, hoping with trees left and right of his army Renly wouldn't been able to flank him. The royal forces would ride tomorrow and then waiting for Renly.

With a bit luck Renly's inexperience and arrogance would lead to his fatality and this thread was over. Ned was really glad it wasn't Stannis who commanded this army, he would have been a much harder challenge.

By the thoughts of the self-claimed King, still sitting on Dragonstone, doing nothing but waiting, Ned's gaze fell on a piece of paper lying on a shelf next to his desk.

The letter Lord Stannis had sent to justify is usurpation, this disgusting accusations against the Queen and her brother. After the initial shock over this temerity had paled they, the Queen and Ned, had sent a counter statement immediately. This had been one of the topics they had agreed on without discussion.

But despise their efforts it still looked like some would believe this lies, Ned couldn't understand it. It were lies, he knew it, the same lies Lord Baelish had tried to feet him for weeks.

Weeks Ned had played this mummery with him, following him, listening to his lies, he had tried to distance him from the Lannisters, tried to fool him into believing the Queen would have lied with her brother, Ser Jaime would have fathered the royal children. Ned had played, pretended to listen, he had hated it and in the end, when his friend Robert lied on his deathbed and Baelish offered him to help to seize the throne, likewise offering the Queen to betray him the trap had sprung.

Now Petyr Baelish rotted in a back cell, he still didn't talk why he had done it, and Ned had no desire to torture him to get his answers. He suspected Baelish wanted to play off the fraction at the court to gain something, a holding, a favour. Ned didn't know but in time he was sure Baelish would talk, eventually.

And when Stannis' letter arrived, full with the same lies Baelish had told Ned had begun to suspect that Stannis is just another victim of this schemer. Maybe he had been lured into something, maybe after Renly surrendered Ned could talk with Stannis, figure a way out, making him see his mistake.

Sadly Lord Baelish's schemes weren't the only one he had to worry about. Arya had overheard something in the dungeons, the day she had disappeared for the afternoon. Ned wasn't sure what to think of it, a planned assassination on him? He hoped Arya had just imagined that, maybe because she didn't want to be in the city. She hated it here, despised her betrothed, the only thing she liked were her dancing master, but she still wanted home.

But sadly neither she nor Ned had the luxury to leave the city, to go home, their duty was clear, as well as Ned hadn't the luxury to doubt his daughter, so he had more guards around him, even if he disliked it.

Suddenly the door was swung open by great force, the noise of wood meeting the hard stone wall with high speed startling Ned out of his thoughts and letting him stare bewildered at the door. Queen Cersei stormed in, an angry gaze focused on him, her green eyes burning like wildfire.

"I won't allow it!" She screamed in his face, rage clearly audible, while she stomped with her foot on the ground. Ned still fighting to find control back after the sudden intrusion could just stare at her. She was raging, her cheeks were redden, matching to her gown and her body language was like a lioness in wrath. Ned gulped heavy and straightened up, not exactly knowing why she was angry but he would find out soon. Situations like this sometimes happened too. Yes they had a good working relationship, most of the times. But sometimes Cersei Lannister started to boil with anger and exploded, like the frustration had bottled-up for years and she had started to let it out in small doses, on him.

Ned still was taken aback by her outbursts every time, she was so different to Cat. His wife had only once raised her voice and not for long, she was always so controlled. Cersei Lannister on the other hand had the ability to be impulsive and passionate if needed, standing proud her ground, defending her rights with tooth and claws if necessary. Wouldn't he be so bewildered every time he would most likely smile, it reminded him of old times, but then it most likely wouldn't be such a good idea to smile.

"Your grace" He tried to calm the angry lioness in front of him, knowing better than raising his voice. The Queen still stood before him, her chest heavily going up and down and her hands balled to fists. With a quick glance Ned noticed that the door still was wide opened and his, additional, guards watched the scene interested. A stern glance from him ended the spectacle for them when Jory dutiful closed the door. It most likely didn't matter, everybody in the Red Keep would be able to hear the Queen's voice clear when she screamed.

After the door had been closed Ned focused again on woman in front of him, her gaze still piercing him like daggers.

"He is a child, I won't allow it!" There was it again, and Ned finally knew why she had come to him, the prince. Ned had made clear prince Joffrey accompany his army into battle, he would be King after all.

"Your grace," Ned started again, not daring to step nearer to her, "The prince is supposed to be King soon …"

"He is thirteen! A boy, not one of your soldiers you can endanger, my Lord!" She took a step closer to him, still glaring at him as if she tried to set him on fire with her mind, and Ned took a step back.

"He will be King." Ned stated clearly, trying to explain. He understood her, very well, he felt the same when it came to Robb, but nevertheless duty demanded Joffrey's presence at the battlefield. "This men will fight for his claim, fight for him. If he is supposed to be their ruler one day he owns it to them to at least see what it had cost. And a King that can't fight his own battles is a man, nobody will ever respect. Why should men follow a man not capable of fighting for his own right?" Ned finally found his courage and stepped closer to her. "If they call him a coward he won't sit long on the throne, men won't fight for him, but against him, he would look weak." The Queen's breathing slowed down a bit, Ned hoped he saw himself reaching her.

"He is not weak." She stated slowly, but took a step back and glided gracefully on a nearby chair, her hands in her lap. Suddenly she looked a much more vulnerable and less intimidating than before. Ned wasn't sure what to do, so he continued to speak.

"His presence will also benefit the moral." She looked up at him, devaluing, snorting. Ned wasn't good at this, reassuring women. Hoping not to overstep boundaries he laid his hand on her shoulder, earning a surprised look from her. "I know how you feel."

"What do you know, he is my son." Cersei Lannister replied, gazing again.

"My son will fight too." Ned reminded her, seeing how her gaze fell down to her lap. "He won't be in danger at any time. I will not allow it, you are right he is too young to fight. He will be in the back, visible but surrounded by guards who will protect him, and if the battle is lost, making sure he escapes into safety."

"Safety you say." She sounded very doubtful. "What if, if the battle goes lost?"

"If the battle goes lost, we will lose, maybe not the entire war but this city for sure. But this won't be our end, we will regroup and fight another day." Ned tried to assured her.

"And what if the city goes lost? Heh? What is with safety for your King then?" She had rose up abruptly standing at her full height in front of him, her face only inches from his.

"I will let men stay her, good men, loyal men. If the battle goes lost they will bring you all out of the city, in secret." He told her the plan he had wanted to reveal to her this evening.

"You want us to run away?" She fixed him, sounding pejorative.

"The city isn't worth any life, we will take it back in the case we lose this battle." Ned justified himself again before her. He didn't had to but somehow it was always ending with him justifying himself or doing what she wanted. "Riverrun is the next best location, from there the best solution would either be Casterly Rock or Winterfell."

"So, it seems you have everything planed in case you fail." She crossed he arms under her breasts, raising them up in the process and Ned had to focus not to glimpse like a young boy when they practically peeked in his face. "Do you expect to fail?"

"No"

"Good. Then I am satisfied, for now." Without saying another word she turned on her heels and left. Ned thought it would be over, it always ended like this and as always he had very confusing feeling. But then she turned around again. "Only to make it clear. I will make you personal responsible if anything happens to him."

"Like I said your grace, he won't be alone, and your brother will be there too, and the entire Kingsguard." Ned breathed out, tense, because she delayed the end, most likely she knew she could torture him, denying him relieve.

"Mhm." Was her only reply before she left, banging the door, letting Ned stand in his solar, unsure if he had won.

* * *

**So, hope you liked it, I cut the first part a bit but...**

**Before anybody complains, I am aware that my solution with Joffrey staying prince is not how it should work, or worked in general, but a coronation would have given him too much power and also would have destroyed some of my plot ideas. I know a king can be underage, but sadly never ok I can't find the word so...**

**Critic at my battle? - Please wait to next week**

**Please review**


	16. Jaime III

**So ... now I somewhat wish to still have a beta, but so be it…**

**I own nothing**

* * *

Tyrion

_Somewhere during the first half year of the marriage_

The sound of lances crashing into steal, combined with girly giggly, drew Tyrion's attention away from the letter he was reading while wandering through the outside corridors of Casterly Rock towards his solar. Turning his head he looked out one of the large lead glass windows down to one of the many yards of the Rock.

With the castle carved into the single granite rock at the edge of the Sunset Sea, the structure provided a variety of terraces on different levels. Some of the upper once contained the Stonegardens, the lower once were used for towers or other defence facilities. Still others had been or were used to costean the gold, resting under the Rock, leaving deep sinkholes in the solid stone. When these terraces weren't used for mining anymore they were reconstructed to yards, with a flat ground and galleries on the sides to observe whatever happened in them. Most of this artificial places were used for stables or training, depending of their position and height on the Rock. But there were also three tournament fields and a theatre, even if nobody used it.

Tyrion looked down on one of these tournament fields, some knights were jousting. Tyrion couldn't detect who was down there, but anyway his attention was drawn to a balcony where he spotted an auburn head in the middle of gold. Another knight were dismounted and once again cheers erupted from the women, together with laughter.

Smiling in the inside that it seemed his wife once again found another way to entertain herself, Tyrion opened the window to lean out, searching a better view. He had expected Sansa being sowing or listening to one of her bards during this hour, but knowing his cousins and her predilection for stories with gallant knights he shouldn't be so surprised to find her watching the knights train. Watching her down there made him somewhat curios, she had never talked about actual knights before, only the once in the stories, so seeing her down there he decided to pay her a visit, and if only to bath into her laugh for a while.

Easy-going Tyrion went down the staircases, not in a hurry. Still his legs started to hurt after two floors, this wasn't new, he never was very good when it came to his legs, sometimes he thought perhaps he should walk on his hands, maybe it would be easier, but wouldn't look so good though.

Reaching his destination Tyrion quickly pushed the letter, he was still holding in his hand, on a random passing by servant, ordering him to bring it to his solar, before he stepped outside in the bright sun.

The giggling was even louder outside, Tyrion enjoyed it. He approached the small balcony, not making himself known. Why should he disturb them? He planned to appear just beside them, as if nothing would be, totally normal, wasn't it?

Sadly his efforts were destroyed by one of the more eager servants holding a tablet with cups.

"My Lord Tyrion." The servant greeted him loudly, bowing deeply, nearly dropping his tablet. At once all attention was on Tyrion. Sansa and his cousins turned to the noise, seeing him they immediately curtsy, bowing their heads, as well as the other servants and the yellow bard.

Sansa was the only one who didn't curtsy, only bowing her head lightly, and he responded the same way. In the first week of their marriage they already had agreed not to bow humble every time they would see each other. Yes, sometimes they, or better Sansa fell back in old habits, but not very often and only when she though it necessary for the situation. Tyrion found it useless, Sansa wasn't his subject, she was his wife. She had objected with his idea, at first, founding it inappropriate, but Tyrion hadn't his silver tongue for nothing, so he had put it to use. A brief grin flashed over his face when he remembered that evening, and when he imagined how he could bring his tongue to differ use sometime in the future, hopefully.

But Tyrion enjoyed the curtsies from his cousins, these symbols of subordination. He clearly enjoyed all his lordly honours way too much when it came to these symbols. But in his own defence his cousins had always looked down on him, laughed at the ugly Imp, now he was the one in power and the thought that they had to bow somehow was amusing and satisfying for him. A sad point in the matter, whatsoever, was that a Queen hadn't to bow for a Lord, and by the gods he had wished for Cersei to have to bow to him at least once, just to see her face.

Tyrion knew all this was a flaw in his personality, one he should work on actually, maybe he would, but for the moment he liked it too much.

Tyrion made his way through his cousins, not bothering to look at one of them. His gaze was fixed on Sansa, how she stood there, smiling, looking happy and entertained in her breath-taking blue gown.

She offered him her hand, she did that since lately and he kissed her smooth flesh lightly. Not overstepping his allowance he set her hand free shortly after, happy on the one side to be allowed to touch her but then on the other hand unsatisfied not to be allowed more.

Tyrion smiled up to Sansa before stepping nearer to the balustrade. There were a small step at its bottom where he could step on to look over the balustrade comfortably. Tyrion crossed his arms on the balustrade, observing the yard where two new men started a joust with padded lances.

"Ah, I see." Tyrion exhaled knowing, after he sensed Sansa stepping besides him. "Do you enjoy the show Sansa?"

"Very much." Sansa spoke softly besides him. When Tyrion gazed to his side he saw she had lowered herself, bending over the balustrade a bit to be head to head with him. Assuring himself she was looking down the yard he risked a small glimpse over his shoulder on her body, she was so stunning. But he rebounded quickly when she continued to speak, not wishing to be caught. "We never had something likely in Winterfell, there aren't even knights in the North. I always wanted to see at a tournament."

"Cheering for valiant knights, following their profession? Becoming the Queen of Love and Beauty?" Tyrion asked, learning once again more about another of her unfulfilled childhood dream and her slightly blushing by his question proved him right. He knew that the knightly idea of valour and nobility was nothing more than a scam of bards to sell their services. Nobody wanted to hear how knights really were. But Tyrion didn't care in this moment, when Sansa wanted to believe in valiant knights out of songs so be it and everybody who would try to show her differ would meet his wrath.

Sansa only response to his question, besides of the blushing, was a dreamy smile while observing the two men once again banging their heads together, playing with their wooden sticks. A little pang appeared in Tyrion's ego, he would never be able to be such a knight, he could hardly ride. But his feeling were overshadowed by an idea coming in his head.

"Sansa, how would you like if we have a tournament?"

"What do you mean?" She asked curious, turning her head to him.

"You know, I proclaim one, the knights come and we celebrate, a reason will be found for sure." Tyrion explained nonchalant, pushing himself of the balustrade.

"Really?" Sansa smiled wider, her hands folded under her chin, she looked like a child promised sweets for supper. Proud, he had caused that, Tyrion opened his hands and nodded.

"I will arrange everything." Tyrion enjoyed to do something like that for Sansa, it entertained her, made her happy. Of course it wouldn't be a normal tournament, Tyrion had no intention to present Sansa a group of smelling hedge knights searching for money, or even risking one of the knights dying in front of Sansa's eyes, no that would kill the mood and wouldn't make her happy for sure. He would let his liege polish their armours and the steward host a great feast. Tyrion planned a nonlethal show tournament in one of the yards. He would present Sansa the dream of knights she had, not the truth, with all the glory and prestige he could manage. This would be perfect, and once again he would cause Sansa great joy.

'Yes, I am a good husband' he thought to himself, smiling, while observing Sansa turning to his cousins, after thanking him exuberant, engaging in wild chattering.

Jaime

The smell of warhorses and sweating men baking in their armours together with the wet smell of the morning dew from the wood crawled into Jaime's nose. For him it wasn't an unpleasant smell, more like an old friend, visiting again.

Jaime sat on his white warhorse, coated in his white enamelled armour, and his white coat, surrounded by mounted knights in red, red and blue or brown. He was like a white dove in a mixture of blood and mud, the things he would certainly wade through in the next hours, but he still felt somewhat exposed.

Fumbling with his glove at the side of his helmet, trying to bring his ventail in order, Jaime cursed his new squire under his breath. The boy had been very sloppy, most likely because he had been more interested in naming the horse between Jaime's legs than paying attention to his helmet. After this battle was over he would have a serious talk with the boy, whose name he somewhat still hadn't memorised yet. He was a member of the Kingsguard and as such protecting his head was way more important than naming what was between his legs, even if he mused his sweet sister wouldn't agree.

Whit the thought of Cersei Jaime's head turned over his shoulder, scanning the back of the centre of the lines, searching for the white flag of the Kingsguard, and indeed, at the utmost end, up on a hilltop he found it. Even from afar he could see the golden armour, this rediciulous golden armour, with golden nipples on it, sparkling in the sun.

Cersei had insisted Joffrey would wear that thing, an overpriced piece, looking good if the boy posed for the commoners but in a real battle Jaime doubted its use. But then, the son of his sister would never see anything more than the dust form the battle in front of him, his Regent had made sure of that.

Most likely because of Cersei's will Ned Stark had decided for the future King to stay aside from the battle, only being present. Following the battle line with his eyes Jaime found the grey Direwolf of his noble commander and regent of the realm way nearer at the front line than necessary.

Stark wasn't Robert, he wouldn't storm headless in the fight risking to die in the first minutes of the fight, but he wasn't Jaime's late father either, Lord Tywin always had waited where his grandson now waited, with the only different that he had actually done more than just sitting pretty on a horse. But Cersei wouldn't have allowed more anyway and Stark hadn't the guts to oppose her in this matters, risking their 'good work'.

Jaime had to admit he was displeased with the way everything had turned out between his sister and Stark. He had thought Stark's time as Regent would be like a constant battle between him and Cersei that they would argue all the time. On the one hand he was glad it hadn't worked out like that, but the way Cersei was invested in keeping whatever it was between them peacefully wasn't good for Jaime either.

All this meeting, mutual understanding and division of work took away all of Jaime's time with Cersei. And when they found a peaceful moment only for them it was all, realm, throne, Stark. What astonished him the most was that it seemed Cersei had developed a sort of respect for the man, even if she praising herself with her ability to manipulate him from time to time. Cersei had never much respect for men, for anybody. Their father was the great exception, but everybody else were always inferior to her. Himself excluded of course, most likely.

Maybe it was because Stark let her do what she loved and always wanted, ruling, of sort. While he did all the hard and undesirable things like preparing, managing and fighting this war or the paperwork, she was able to hold court, letting other kissing her feet. She bathed in the attention and the power she had received, with Stark being depending on her opinion when it came to the decisions concerning the petitioner she, but not he, had heard. Not to mention that he seemed not to mind her temper, Robert had just ignored her and left the room but Stark actually listened to her when she had an outburst, up to now only Jaime had done that. It was nearly like Stark would still seeing himself as nothing more than the Hand and Cersei would be the all ruling Queen.

Jaime didn't liked the situation at all, Tyrion would say he would be jealous, maybe he was. But then of what? Ned Stark was married, and way too honourable to be a thread for him. Cersei? He had always loved Cersei and never questioned her affection, so this couldn't be it either.

So what? However, he had liked it much more when Cersei had wanted to kill Stark.

Jaime exhaled a low curse of pain when his ventail finally fell shut and jammed his left index finger for a moment. A low chuckle from his side let Jaime shoot an angry glare in the direction to his fellow soldier. Adam Marbrand quickly turned his head pretending nothing had happened. Glaring for another blink Jaime readjusted his position in the saddle, nothing would be worse for a knight than to have an imperfect stand when it came to a fight mounted against mounted.

After he was pleased Jaime looked around himself, he was surrounded by some of the finest knights this army, Stark had scraped together, had to offer, they were the reason he was here. Their scouts had reported Renly would most likely command his battle from his right flank so Stark had put together a group of the best knights on their own left flank to bring Renly down as soon as possible, hoping to end the battle quick with taking the head of the rebellion.

Jaime couldn't disagree with his strategy but hadn't cared very much until he had learned who would lead this attack. The moment he had heard he had gone to Stark and asked him, yes asked him, for permission to join them. Cersei might had dared him to make sure Joffrey would be safe but the boy was protected by his Hound and the other six of the Kingsguard, what would he make for a difference?

Luckily Jaime's request had fallen in the time when they had already been on the road and Ned Stark had agreed. Jaime wouldn't have listened to him if he would have said no anyway.

He was the best swordfighter in the seven Kingdoms, not to take him on this mission would have been a terrible mistake. Not to mention what it meant for himself, once again he was able to fight side by side with a legend.

Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, would lead the attack, he the wises choice, and enough for Jaime to be excited. He had fought alongside Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lewyn Martell and Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Members of a legendary generation of knights outclassing everyone living today. The only knights, he had nearly worshipped in his youth, alive were Barristan Selmy, who currently protected his prince, and the Blackfish. Even if the Blackfish wasn't as famous as the White Bull or Dayne, to fight with him was something Jaime had often fantasised during his time as a squire.

Jaime had already met the man once, when Lord Hoster had kept him in Riverrun for a fortnight, hoping to marry one of his daughter to him, but Jaime had only been interested in the old knight he would now fight with. Jaime had always wanted to be like one of them, like the Sword of the Morning and today, when he fought alongside the Blackfish he could proof he was worthy to be called in a breath with them.

'Ser Jaime's victory over Renly the usurper in the battle of the Kingswood', what a fine song this would make, no more Kingslayer. This was most likely his last chance to get rid of this nickname of his, Ser Jaime the white knight was way more suitable for him.

With a light kick in the flank of his horse Jaime guided his white stallion to the frontline, through all the other knights, and brought it to a stop at the side of Ser Brynden. Jaime bowed his head a little, as much as the armoured collar and his pride allowed, when the older knight turned his head to him. The famous knight wore a simple plain armour, nothing extraordinary, with bumps and scratches all over it.

"Ser" He greeted Jaime in his smoky voice, the features of his weathered face showing through his ventailess helmet. Jaime put his own ventail up, smiling smugly. He was where he had pictured himself as a boy, riding besides the Blackfish, alone that made the day worth living.

"Any last instructions?" He asked like it would be his first battle, letting his gaze wander over the predestined battlefield. Jaime had once again to admit Stark had chosen not bad. The Kingsroad in the centre with thick forest left and right the chosen place was practically a two thousand yard broad swathe with some light hills at their side. Renly's men would be very limited in their mobility when they would attack. Together with the forest at the sides, only interrupted by a few hidden paths, Renly's superiority in numbers was useless, not to mention that his knights wouldn't be able to deploy their entire military clout. On the other hand the army on Jaime's side contained mostly out of infantry, much more suitable for the terrain. They only waited for Renly to arrive, a cloud of dust in the distance already foreshadowed his arrival.

"Keep together." The Blackfish interrupted Jaime's musing, he hadn't paid much attention but now his head snapped to the man. "We wait, let them attack, hold the ground and then, when everybody is distracted by the fighting we strike. I want us to attack as one unit, but like I said keep together and whatever you do, if he tries to escape in the woods, let him. The last thing I want is us chasing separately in the woods, we can only lost with this. We get him at the first try or fail."

"I remember being in the area when we fought against the Kingswood Brotherhood, sneaky terrain yes, but I would rather following Renly than letting him escape." Jaime objected, he knew how the Kingswood was designed, paths, a few isolated little villages on glades, a few holes in the ground. He had been here with the White Bull, he was sure he could orient himself if necessary. "If Renly escapes, we will have to do this all over again." He let his hand wander over the battle lines to empathize his point.

"Maybe, but being killed by a stumbling horse isn't of use either." The old man let out a grunt. "Let it be."

"I don't remember you telling me about, 'let it be' when you told me your story of the war of the Ninepenny Kings." Jaime countered with a slide of mocking in his voice and a smile.

"I didn't?" Tully chuckled, sounding like a coughing old grandfather. "You were a squire back then, I remember well, not only because I had to listen to my nieces accusation I would have stolen her time with you." A smile played in the corners of the old man's mouth. Jaime just tried to push the image he had from Lysa Tully aside when the Blackfish continued more serious. "By now you must have realised that knights only tell what bards sing. We speak about our great deeds to the young to inspire them, if we would tell them how it really is, fighting in the mud, bleeding, smelling shit, hearing dying man screaming for their mothers, the squires would run to the stables and take the next horse to the Citadel or a Sept."

"Knights have to be valiant, noble." Jaime agreed, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"Yes. If the bard would sing the truth, about all the self- righteous cutthroats in our midst, knights no better than common Sellswords, we would be outlawed by now." Melancholia played in the voice of the man, while Jaime sensed offence.

"Like singing about the Kingslayer?" He asked, leaning forward in his saddle, fixing the knight with his eyes. The Blackfish mustered Jaime thorough, his face not moving.

"I met Aerys, once. He had already turned from this promising young ruler to the Mad King. I don't care for his death." Jaime looked puzzled in the man's blue eyes, he couldn't detect a lie. "They say you betrayed your oath killing him, so what, I betrayed my oath fighting in Robert's Rebellion and your father just decided to join. If I had met Aerys in the throne room, unarmed or not he would have found his end as well." Jaime was astonished, it was the first time ever, anybody had said something like that to him. It made him feel relief and satisfaction, but why were the man's gaze so hard then? "I understand that you chose your father's side, family comes first. What bothers me is that you decided to place your ass on the throne instead doing what would have been right, protecting the royal children. Death children are nothing a man should ever allow." A sudden outburst of disdain flashed over Tully's face only a moment, and was gone as fast as it came. Jaime felt suddenly very uncomfortable in his skin, small. The man starred him down as one would do with a child that purposely broke something.

"What could I have done?" Jaime snapped, feeling the need to defend himself, even if he was sure he shouldn't have to.

"Try, more can nobody demand." Once again, Ser Brynden's gaze wandered over him before he turned to the cloud of dust that was coming nearer. "They will be here soon."

The rest of the morning was spent in an awkward silence, Jaime pondered over what had happened, absently gazing a far. On the one Hand, the Blackfish, one of the few men alive he sincerely respected had absolved him for killing the Mad King, nobody had ever done so before. Nobody had cared, it had been convenient that the mad man was dead, but giving Jaime credit for it, never.

But on the other hand, he had accused him, hitting Jaime right in the core, calling him an oathbreaker, even with different words. Jaime had never liked the death of Elia and her children, but never had anybody called him accessary. Jaime was sure, if there was a life after death, like the Septons told, Rhaegar would certainly accuse him for his wife's and children's death, but no living. And worse for Jaime was that he had no excuse, he had not even spared a single thought for Elia or the prince and princess back at the day. He could always argue with him that the death of the Mad King was to save the city, that he had done the right thing, but for the other deaths he had no such absolution.

This bothered him the entire morning, especially because it came from Ser Brynden, everybody else, he would have smiled in the face, not caring for his opinion, but out of reasons not entirely clear to Jaime, the old knight's words had stung deep into him.

Being so deep in his thoughts Jaime didn't notice how the cloud of dust came nearer and nearer, not even the sound of boots booming on the ground or the clank of steel together with the noise of one hundred thousand men arriving.

"Make yourself ready!" The hoarse voice of the Blackfish sounded in his ear, together with the clank of drawn swords and tinkering with chain mails and plate armour. Startled out of his thoughts Jaime looked forward.

Renly had come.

Long lines of green and yellow coated soldiers, bearing the crests of Stormlands and the Reach had marched up in front of them, maybe three hundred feet between both armies. Pushing his previous thoughts aside, there was no room for them now, Jaime mustered Renly's array. The soldiers looked pretty, polished armours, neat coats, like their mothers had just send them away from home for a friendly tournament. Jaime knew they were well fed by Renly's slow pace, with feast and tournaments at any crossroad. They all most likely thought they would be superior, confident in their numbers, thinking this would be just a little skirmish before their dear Renly could take the throne. 'Knights of the Summer' Lord Stark had called them, and he was right, these men in front of Jaime were in for a very unpleasant treat.

"Keep an eye on him." Tully reminded Jaime from the side, bewildered Jaime followed his gaze and found whom he had meant. A group of maybe twenty knights came from the, from Jaime's view left side, of the enemy's line. The flags showed the stag of the House Baratheon, the rose of Highgarden and a third with a rainbow. Jaime nearly started to laugh, realising it was Renly's infamous Rainbowguard. He observed the seven colourful wannabe knights carefully, they would be the one to overcome to get to their master.

Lord Stark rode towards Renly, meeting him in the middle between both armies, together with Jaime's uncle Kevan and a group of selected Lords. For Jaime it was impossible to hear what they were saying, the only thing he understood was when Renly turned his horse and rode back to his army, his arm in the air, getting behind in line exactly opposite to Jaime's group, as predicted.

Lord Stark rode back as well, his usually grim face, visible even from afar. So the battle would be inevitable.

Not long after both groups returned to their men, the music started.

Jaime knew the horrible song that would be played, keeping his ventail up he adjusted his seating position again, waiting, like Ser Brynden reminded them constantly.

First came the drums, with their rhythmical sound together with the sound of trumpets Renly's army slowly advanced. Did Robert's little brother really knew what he started there?

"Trumpets" The Blackfish snarled condescending. "What does he think this is, a tournament?"

A quick chuckle escaped Jaime, Tully was right, a battle was certainly no place for trumpets. However, he focused back to the enemy lines. Disregarding a vanguard at all they marched forward, swordfighter in the first line, knights on foot. Renly, what an idiot, instead of having his Reach-Lancers in the first line he wanted a glorious battle with knights fighting man against man, Jaime thought. Shortly glancing back to his own side, Jaime found determent, stern faces and a waiting army. The men from the Westerlands, North and Riverlands waiting, with swords, pikes and axes in their hands. Stark had ordered to wait, only to attack when the enemy was near. So except for a few archers, sending their regards to Renly, the army was still waiting.

With the enemy coming nearer Jaime felt the tension building up in his body, this mixture that made his skin tingle, it wouldn't take long anymore.

So the music turned to its next stanza, looking to his right Jaime saw the advanced right flank of their army, with a chained man on his flag the Northerner, Jaime couldn't remember his name, whom Lord Stark gave command on the right side, stormed forward with his men, the enemy not more than twenty feet away. The battle cry of the northerners sounded all the way over to him when the steal started its part in the music.

As if a dike had broken lose, the troops in green and yellow suddenly stormed forward, giving up their formation, even with nearly fifty feet between them and their targets, fired by the starting fight at their left and the cries of the young knight-commanders.

Once again Jaime wanted to laugh, about how undisciplined their leaders were. While Jaime's side stood still, waiting patiently for their time, they wasted their energy in the heat of the moment. Jaime observed how they shoved each other aside, maybe some of them were even trampled to death by their own men.

Only when the enemy was close enough the signal for the attack came from Lord Stark and the lines stormed forward. Jaime's skin itched to follow them, but he had to wait, damned to observe.

Not long and the lines collided against each other, becoming an undefined mass of fights, man against man. The music was now containing out of the clank of swords, the muffled sound of shield against shield and screams.

Jaime tightened the grip around the hilt of his sword, listening to the music of death around him. He hated it to have to idle stand by, not able to do anything. The soldiers, who stood around them were gone, fighting in front of them now. Jaime's eyes wandered around until they found the Blackfish, looking as unhappy as Jaime was, glaring to the battle only feet in front of them, listening to the dying of men.

"It's time." The Blackfish exhaled to Jaime, gazing to the battle lines. Following his gaze Jaime saw what he saw, Renly, sitting lazy on a nervous horse behind his lines, protected by troops with the crest of two roses, a few knights and his Rainbowguard. "Let's go!" Tully called over his shoulders, drawing his sword. He pressing ahead, not letting Jaime much time to drew his own sword. Jaime spurred his horse and galloped behind him, the sound of fifty other knights doing the same. Jaime noticed frustrated that he couldn't lower his ventail while galloped to the line, it stuck. Angry with his squire for letting that happen he let go and got deeper in the saddle, so it had to work with ventail up then.

The group headed for a part of their line with the flag showing a crest with a half-naked woman. With a given signal the soldiers would open their line to let them through, easy.

The horn signal was given behind Jaime and the line in front of them opened. Jaime was head to head with the Blackfish when the men on foot stepped aside, opening his view to a bunch of startled looking green coated soldiers, while cheering for them. Using the moment Jaime guided his horse through them in full speed, overrunning the first man, some knight who had no idea what was happening while letting his sword coming down on a man to his right, cutting through his helmet and opening his skull.

Blood splashed in Jaime's face, but there was no time to be distracted his unit had to go forward, there was no time to waste. If they would lose the element of surprise they would fail, not to mention that he had no shield to protect himself in a fight against ground soldiers. A shield would have been too heavy, an obstruction for their speed and plan.

Jaime quickly rammed the point of his sword in another man's face, looking up to see the Blackfish cutting through the lines as well, Jaime briefly wondered if he counted the men he killed and if he would be open for a comparison.

A sound let Jaime focus on his left, a man with a spear ran toward him while Jaime's horse tried to struggle himself free from an overrun man to run further. The man with the spear had no luck, Adam Marbrand sliced his back open riding by, grinning towards Jaime before continuing his gallop.

Jaime's horse was free again and he could catch up with the others on their short way to Renly's last defence, a thin line of green soldiers with the two roses. Jaime only briefly turned his head over his shoulder while riding, seeing how the men with the half-naked woman on their crest closed the lines behind them.

The victory in front of his eyes Jaime formed a line with Tully and Marbrand, storming with raised sword at Renly's line. They were totally bewildered about the advancing knights. A knight with the crest of two roses on his chest tried to call them in order but it was too late.

The unit of the Blackfish had formed a long attack line of now only nearly fifty knights, against the few men on foot. For a second time today Jaime let his horse break through the enemy line, overrunning the poor fellow thinking he could stop him.

The defence line was quickly broken and the soldiers scattered away like scared rats, now it were the unit of the Blackfish against maybe thirty mounted knights who formed a circle around Renly.

Without losing time Jaime followed the Blackfish, riding towards the circle. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Marbrand and another knight taking on the leader of runaway soldiers, the knight with the two roses on his crest. Not caring Jaime focused on Renly, who starred terrified at the knights coming to kill him. Jaime quickly stroke down a knight with a rediciulous yellow coat and sunflowers on his armour. The nearly too easy kill against the unprepared opponent left Jaime unsatisfied, but then his eye fell on a much more profitable target.

He found the armour of Loras Tyrell, the knight of the Flowers, the one who had beat him at the joust at the tournament of Joffrey's Nameday. Jaime wanted to teach the boy a lesson about the different between tournament and real battle. The boy seemed to have noticed him as well, making himself ready to strike against Jaime. But the intention became obsolete when Ser Brynden rammed his sword in the flank of Ser Loras' horse, causing it to rear up in pain, unsaddling his rider.

So Jaime turned his attention to Renly, just in time to see his shocked face, starring at his lover crawling on the ground. Jaime made his sword ready when Renly screamed out and turned his horse to flee. His knights broke their battles, the one who could at least and followed him in the forest.

Jaime turned around for a last time to look around. The knight with the two roses had killed one of his attackers, leaving Adam injured on the ground he followed Renly, but not before picking up Ser Loras in full gallop.

Only he and another knight, coated in blue were in the condition to join Renly. This was the opportunity to get him. Ignoring Ser Brynden's previous orders Jaime followed the four men on three horses.

They rode fast, ignoring his surroundings Jaime followed them on their heels, not letting off, through the forest they fled into. He choose to ignore the calls of the Blackfish behind him, not to follow them.

Jaime had no idea how long he had ridden behind them, but slowly the sound of the battle faded away in the far, only the hooves of four horses thundering on the small path. Jaime had no idea where he was, and frankly he didn't care very much at the moment, because the men in front of him were getting slower, he would catch them soon.

Just as he thought he would soon be able to strike the horse with Ser Loras and his saviour down, the knight in blue screamed something and turned his horse, encountering Jaime. Jaime cursed under his breath, stupid idiot, he would cost him Renly's head.

But Jaime had no choice than slowing down his horse as well, or the blue knight could easily kill him while riding by.

Both stood there now, in the middle of the forest, while Renly escaped. Jaime was determent to make the knight pay for his boyish try to be valiant and protecting Renly.

As more surprised was he when the knight dismounted his horse and throw away his shield, did he want a fair duel? Grinning confident Jaime dismounted as well, Renly had escaped anyway and Jaime was superior on foot or on a horse. He didn't care to tie his horse, for sure this wouldn't take long.

The man opposite to him was tall, not as tall as the Mountain but taller than Jaime, the blue coated knight had his ventail down, so Jaime couldn't see his face. He wouldn't be the first faceless man he killed so Jaime took position, grinning at him as a welcome to attack.

Without hesitation the knight attacked, his sword raised for the strike, Jaime parried the attack, when the sword came down. He had wanted to use a counter attack but stumbled, taken aback for a moment by the guy's strength. His skill allowed him to recover quickly, deriving the sword of the other, trying to get around him. This dance of the blue knight attacking with full force and Jaime doing his best not to get cut in half, parrying the hits, continued.

The man was good, strong as Clegane and very skilled, Jaime had to admit, he fought ungraceful but still Jaime had a hard time to get a chance for a strike.

But then he saw his opportunity, he let his sword wander to his side and when the other's sword went down on him he jumped to the side, hoping to rolling behind him in full armour and cutting in his side in the process. But the other was fast as well, he reacted by trying to kick Jaime. Jaime had to break up his attack, coming to a stop on his knees, before in a quick decision jumping ahead with full force, turning his unprotected face away when he tackled the blue knight, making him stumble backwards.

The blue lost his sword, it flew with full speed away. Sadly it hit one of the horses, Jaime just heard the scream while his head roared from the impact. Coming back to his feet he saw with disbelief how both animals, one most likely hit by the other, now bolted, running in the forest.

Angry because of the lost horse, his way back, Jaime turned to the side. He expected the knight still confused, gripping his sword tighter. He was angry and wanted to end it, through his anger he had his guard down only to see a mailed fist coming towards his unprotected face when he had turned around.

A short pain and his world went black.

* * *

**This was much longer than I planned, but Ok**

**I know I go a bit far with the Blackfish, but for the purpose of the story it had to be. I also not recall him ever commenting the death of Aerys or Jaime's role in it. He is also the only Tully, and I know I most likely sow a shitstorm right now, following his house words in the right order**

**Whatsoever just my impression**

**I know there is a shortage of Sansa and Tyrion in this Sansa and Tyrion story lately but please forgive me there will be more next week and as far as I planned a full chapter for one of them in three or four weeks top**

**Hope you enjoyed it and please review - feel also free to review if you hated it**

**Does anybody not know who the blue knight is?**


	17. Jon III

**100 reviews and like promised:**

**First thanks for all your continued support, that's what really keeps me going here**

**I own nothing**

* * *

Tyrion

_The way to Winterfell_

Tyrion sighed audibly, rubbing his eyes, he was bored, bored to the seven hells. Looking over to Sansa he decided to spend some time just watching her, she always lifted his mood. She was currently absorbed in her needlework, what meant she was exclusively focused on the needle in her hand and a piece of cloth.

She was beautiful as always, wearing a purple gown embroidered with exotic silver patterns, Tyrion remembered the day she had chosen the fabric from a merchant of Asshai with a little smile curling in the corner of his mound, she looked even better in it than he had anticipated. Wandering over her with his eyes his gaze stopped at her hands. He carefully observed how gracious she worked with the filigree needle in her hand, despise the heavy rings on each of her long elegant fingers or the many bracelets. Her craftsmanship was impressive as well as the concentration she put on her project, she could do this for hours.

Whatever she was embroidering at the moment it already looked incredible, on the simple white cloth slowly appeared the form of a tree, with enough details to make it look almost real, like little branches or leaves, she also had embroidered bark, making the tree look old, everything she did was without a slightest mistake, despise the bumpy coach journey.

Consumed by her sight Tyrion adjusted his seating position, drown in the cushions he pushed himself up before letting his gaze wander back to Sansa. Her eyes were focused on her task while her auburn hair fell down freely, framing her face in copper shining in the sun.

Tyrion liked it to observe her very much, sadly for him was that, despite their marriage lasting for two years now, she still blushed every time she caught him observing her in secret. Tyrion always smiled then, caught like a boy, teasing her that she should be accustomed of his worship for her by now. If she was in the mood then she was the one countering with a remark about his worshipping. Then she very often engaged in an always light battle of wits with him, ending with him proving his worship of her.

Thinking about it Tyrion wouldn't call something like this unwelcome at the moment, the carriage was large enough and cushioned. But on the other hand he didn't want to disturb her work, she preferred to suspend something she was doing on her own terms, not somebody else's, not even his and Tyrion had to respect that.

Trying to focus his thoughts in a different direction, before ending up horny like boy, Tyrion turned to the window. Bracing himself on one arm, resting on the frame, he watched the countryside passing by. They were on their way to Winterfell and the landscape was dull.

Sansa and he had visited King's Landing because of his insufferable nephew's Nameday. Tyrion had hated it so much, yes, of course, to see Jaime, Myrcella and Tommen again had been great, for them being the only family members with his blood he could honestly say to love, but only for their sake alone Tyrion wouldn't have gone into the his sister's den.

But Sansa, his clever wife, always reminding him of what he should do, had argued it would have been the perfect opportunity for her to meet his siblings, not to mention it seemed it had been appropriate for them to pay their respect to the King, especially for him, who hadn't renewed his oath of fealty to his liege Lord in person since he had become Lord of Casterly Rock. She had been right and Tyrion was smart enough to listen to her advice, without her he would be a complete failure in his social duties. Sansa had persuade him, despite his constant warnings of Cersei, he had to throw in.

Sadly Sansa hadn't listened and became closer to Cersei than it was healthy for her, in Tyrion's opinion, but on the other side Sansa was certainly capable of looking after herself in that matter. More than warning her, and secretly keeping an eye on his sweet sister, wasn't in his power, not to mention that Sansa wouldn't allow him to do more anyway.

Luckily she had seen Joffrey in the right light, that was something, as well as it seemed she was more than able to find her way through the other snake holes in the capital.

Tyrion had wished nothing more than to return home, not only because his stock of books to read had run short, the same reason why he was without anything to read and bored right now. But he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. Seeing Sansa in the capital, surrounded by his family, with remorse in her eyes. It hadn't taken much consideration on his part to come to the conclusion that she missed her own family, she was she separated from them nearly two years by now.

To be honest Tyrion had little likings for a journey to the North, a faraway sparse land, not to mention him being surrounded by Starks who most certainly wouldn't like his presents at all, giving the circumstances of Sansa's and his engagement.

But Sansa missed them, he knew it and he had promised her long ago that they would visit them together as soon as possible. To stay with the truth, back in King's Landing had been the soonest possible moment to travel north and a Lannister always pays his debts. And if not for that then for her and the overwhelming reaction Sansa had when he had told her they could travel north if she wished so.

Maybe he should enjoy this boredom he had right now as long as possible, giving the fact that he would soon be in the midst of a pack of wolves, Tyrion thought to himself while yawn open mounded starring on the swamp in front of his window.

"Bored?" Sansa's sweet voice startled him out of his thoughts and made him snap his head in her direction.

She had placed her needlework on her lap, mustering him with an amused expression, leaning a bit forward. Tyrion's eyes wandered again over her and once again thoughts sprung in his mind, how he wanted to end his boredom.

"You have no idea my dear, but maybe you have a suggestion how put an end to my current state." He said with his best seducing voice, grinning widely, leaning forward as well and reaching out for her hands. Sansa gave him a knowing smile and moved.

"You think?" She purred softly, her hands going down in direction of her lap.

"Oh yes I think." Tyrion grinned in victory, moving closer to her.

"Here" Sansa unexpectedly shoved her needlework in his direction, smiling a bit too bright at him. Tyrion was struck dumbfounded, totally bewildered what just happened, he starred up to his wife, his mouth wide open. "You should try." Sansa suggested placing the things in his lap. She tried to look innocent, like she hadn't understood his earlier implication, but even in his puzzled state Tyrion saw the amusement in her eyes, she was near a burst of laughter. "Close your mouth Tyrion, you let the flies in."

Tyrion closed his mouth and gulped audible by her nonchalant but amused tone, his eyes starring from him to the cloth and needle she had shoved in his lap and back. He had wanted her there, but it seemed she wanted to tease him, he was sure of that, he liked that, a game.

"I'm not sure if I am suitable for that my Lady." He commented, sounding more devaluing than he had wanted, putting the needlework on the side, smiling apologetic. His mind raced searching for another good reply to guide the conversation in the direction he wanted it to be, but then the unforeseen happened.

"Why?" She asked, sounding aggressive, angry. "Are such minor task not suitable for a great Lord? Or for a man at all?" Tyrion was again taken aback, but this time by her tone. She sounded angry, offended by him and because of his lack of experience with her angry Tyrion was not sure if she was serious or not. What just happened? He wanted to say something but she crossed her arms over her chest and continued scolding, glaring at him during this sudden outburst. "Is stitching only work for minor insignificant people, like women? Or are you afraid to be called effeminate? Are you really that insecure?"

She continued glaring him down. A thousand explanations flew through Tyrion's head what just happened. Had he offended her, he hadn't wanted to. Had it been a reaction of something he had done or a general dissatisfaction with him or an attitude of him? Or was it simply…

"You are messing with me?" Tyrion asked very insecure but pretending to be confident, felling very small, his head crouched and praying to the gods. What had he done wrong? What was this? How had he offended her? He was looking straight up to her, pleading with his eyes for an answer.

For a few moments, very long moments for him, nothing happened, there was only silence.

"Only if you start stitching." Sansa finally responded, her frown leaving her face for a wolfish grin, she took the needlework from his side and rose. She sat beside Tyrion, still grinning devilish down on the totally confused Tyrion and placed the cloth in his left hand and the needle in his right, using her fingers to close his around it. "You must stich along the line, but gentle or you destroy the fabric." She instructed him, suddenly motherly, guiding his hand with the needle to its task, as if instructing a child and nothing had happened, only the grin remained.

Tyrion still hadn't figured out what just happened, she most likely having fun with him, but to be sure he decided it would be wise just to follow her orders. Learning that Needlework was even harder than it looked like, but also that he enjoyed it somewhat doing it with Sansa. Another thing they could do together from now on, he spent the rest of the day with her teaching him to stick a straight line. Her declaration she would be proud of him at the end was the best part, especially after he had asked and learned that she had planned to lure him into trying it for some time, hoping he would understand her little charade but she had found the given opportunity just too tempting to waste.

Jon

Jon carefully guided his horse over the uneven ground in a slow pace, not wanting his dornish stallion to stumble. Ghost walked besides him, visibly uninterested in the landscape. It was bored though, Jon didn't need to have his special bound with the wolf to know that, but they were alone. Just to be sure Jon turned his head away from the stony side path towards the long red line, maybe one hundred feet away from him, only to check if they would still be in his sight.

The last thing Jon wanted was to get lost here, deep in the Westermountains. The journey to Casterly Rock was all in all very uneventful, pushing aside the encounter with Lady Stark and the whole day they had lost through it. But on the other hand Jon had a last meeting with Ser Rodrik, he liked the old knight and was glad for it.

The most time the journey Jon had spent with Tyrion's cousins, they would be the one he would spend the most time with at, how they call the castle, 'the Rock', so it was the obvious choice and they had accepted him in their ranks His sister and her husband on the other hand were especially private, most of the time they spent in the carriage, alone, and if he was honest Jon wasn't really eager to know what they did in there. Not that he would complain, it was clear they hadn't forgotten him. He ate with them or talked with them on a regular bases, but he had discovered that he hadn't much in common with both. When they discussed a book they just read or were discussing matters of the Westerlands Jon felt like a third wheel.

Both of them had a whole different selection of subjects and interests than him. Jon would have never expected half of it from a Lord, even Lord Tyrion, or even his sister. Back when they were children all she had talked about had been knights and songs, she still did but there were also very advanced issues he had nothing to contribute too.

It wasn't tragically, Jon had never been the most eager student of Maester Luwin and so he wasn't surprised. He spent most of his time with Lancel, Tyrek, Lucion, Willem and Cleos, they were more like him. It was nearly as being together with Robb and Theon.

But sometimes he had to distance himself from them as well, to be alone. He then would take his horse, riding out and trailed alongside the traveller group to be alone with his thoughts, like now.

Compunction tortured Jon the entire way now, because of Robb.

Jon looked south over the mountains his thoughts wandering to his brother. Robb was out there, fighting, risking his life in the war, together with their father, even with Theon, and what did he? Jon Snow was with the world slowest party sneaking back to the Westerlands to spend his time at the safe and luxurious court of his brother-in-law.

Jon hated that thought, he wanted to be with Robb, with his father, fighting with them, he felt obligated to do so. But there were other obligations as well, he was now in the service of Tyrion Lannister, and he wanted him to stay with him. A gracious offer it had been from the little Lord, more than Jon had ever dared to hope for but back in Winterfell, when the news of the war came he had been willing to throw all offered away to go with Robb.

But his brother had different plans for him:

"No, I want you to go west with Sansa." Robb had said to him, "One sword won't make a difference south, but it will for Sansa when it's a brother who watches out for her."

Jon had objected, of course, but Robb had made clear he wouldn't allow Jon to go with him. He wanted Jon to go with Sansa and who was he to argue with everyone around him.

So Jon had gone west, taking the obligations, being an odd mixture of brotherly guardian and privileged courtier. Nevertheless Jon wanted to fight, not for the reasons the other men around him, like Tyrek or Lancel wanted to, not for glory but for his family.

Thinking of this Jon's hand instinctively flew to his throat, rubbing the still sore bruise, caused by one of the most inscrutable incident so far and something that still puzzled him.

It had happened during the first week of this now two month long journey, Jon had taken a late evening walk in the dark with Ghost, trying to get some fresh air while the others had started to drink. He hadn't meant anything bad while wandering through the large red tends, constructed in neat straight lines.

Deep in his thoughts Jon hadn't noticed how he somehow crossed the guard line of Sansa's and Tyrion's carriage. He really hadn't noticed, he also thought the guard who had failed to do his job and was now walking at the end of the line would be to blame as well.

However, while he was walking around suddenly somebody had seized him from behind with an unusual strength, catching him of guard. In the matter of seconds Jon had an exotic looking, thin knife on his throat, lightly drawing blood. Only thanks to his reflexes Jon had been able to stop Ghost from jumping on the stranger. Such an attack would have certainly brought the sharp blade in his skin, bleeding him out like a pig.

"And, who t'incs 'imself so bold to sneac around lice a grass'opper near Master and Mistress sleeping place." A melodic voice with a foreign accent had whispered in his ear, letting his blood turn to ice. "May I teach 'im respect? But only after 'e told 'is name, I prefer to know w'o I send to t'e God of Deat'."

Jon's mind had rushed like never before in his life, bewildered by the entire situation. He hadn't known who the man was, what he wanted. All Jon had been able to see were the knife and a long slender arm, coated in black. Ghost had growled, ready to jump, only Jon's power over the Direwolf stopped him, but Jon hadn't wanted to tempt his luck. But he still had dared a leap of faith.

"Your mistress's brother." He replied, praying not to hear his throat slid open.

"No." Came the counter and Jon felt his heart sinking but then the blade disappeared at once. "Apology" the stranger whispered in his ear before disappearing noiseless, letting Jon stand where he stood. He had breathed heavily, seeing his life passing in front of his eyes.

When Jon had finally found his courage back he had turned around nothing was there, he had turned to Ghost as well but the wolf only starred at him sheepish.

Jon had asked his sister and Tyrion the next day, she claimed to have no idea what happened to him and her husband even suggested Jon would have dreamed. Rediciulous, considering the sore wound on his throat, but even for that he had an explanation, not a good one though. When Jon tried to dig further he only received cryptic answers from his brother-in-law, Jon was sure he hid something.

"You met the guard." Tyrek had suggested an answer to his questions when Jon had finally came up with the idea to ask around and had gone to the other Lannisters. "You won't find anybody to confirm their existence but it is said that Lord Tyrion has established a special secret guard for his wife. Nobody knows who they are, some rumour they would always be near her, disguised as servants. Other claim they would be some sort of sorcerer, dark worriers out of the darkest places of Essos, commanding the dark arts. There is no trace of them existing, they never left trace, but sometimes a servant disappears, one of the one who has the night time to serve. The stewards says that if you are too sloppy or dare to go to close to Lady Sansa you will disappear. I even heard a kitchen wench saying the dark guard, that's what they're called, would drag you in the underworld and enslave your soul." Jon had listened carefully, with wide eyes to the serious looking Tyrek until he had burst out into laughter, his voice turned to mocking. "Or that is what the more superstitious inhabitants of the Rock think."

Jon hadn't found very much funny in the joke, so he had asked around more. Most have denied the existence of this guard, but some hadn't wanted to speak about it either and Jon wouldn't put it pass Tyrion to hire some highly trained men to guard Sansa. Even if it was nothing more than a legend for the most people, Jon believed it, let alone because of his bruise turned wound.

Jon had his attention to his inside when Ghost caught his eyes, the Direwolf had stopped and looked afar. Following the eyes of his feline companion Jon found a horse approaching him in full speed. He stopped walking and waited patiently, observing the rider.

The rider was a squire, a boy of maybe twelve years, he brought his horse to a stop in front of Jon, breathing hard he slightly bowed his head. That was something Jon thought he would never get used to, people bowing to him. For Robb of course, everybody always bowed to the heir of Winterfell or any other of Lord Stark's trueborn children, but nobody ever bothered to bow to the bastard.

"Lord and Lady Lannister wish to see you." The squire babbled out, looking at him expecting. "Now, please." He added, turning his horse.

Without much thinking Jon swung himself on his own horse and followed the boy. They rode silently along the trek, in a fast pace, Ghost was running besides Jon. Soon they reached the pompous carriage Sansa and Tyrion used to travel in. After the squire excused himself and left, Jon brought his horse loser to this house on wheels. He didn't expect them to stop for him to climb on the carriage and it seemed to be urgent so he jumped from his horse on the driving carriage, stabilising himself on the door.

It seemed the servants had expected that from him and looked away after taking his horse while Jon hung on a wooden panel. Suddenly the door, which was in front of him was opened and Tyrion's head were stuck out.

"Snow, what are you doing?" He asked amused, seeing him hanging there. "Come in."

Jon held on to the door and slipped inside the large cabin. The inside was smelling like roses and lavender, looking more like a cushion marked than a travel cabin. Jon wanted to close the door behind him but before he could Ghost jumped in, settling on the ground. Jon closed the door after him and wanted to apologize but when he saw Sansa's amused face and Lady lying languidly on the cushions he didn't.

Instead he looked around, as usual the place was crowded with books and papers, he also saw shaking cups with wine and two separate pairs of needles with corresponding fabric. He wasn't surprised, it was common knowledge under the Lannister men that the Lord of the Westerlands not only accompanied his wife during her needlework but also participating in it.

Jon remembered how he laughed when he first heard that, what a Lord would stich napkins. But apparently the little Lord did and anybody who dared to make fun of him for that had to meet Sansa's 'displeasure'. Jon had experienced that as well and never again he had made fun or laughed about Tyrion's needlework.

"Do you just want to look around or do you intend to sit down?" Sansa asked him with a quick grin on her face, but looking more precisely Jon saw that there was something else in her expression.

"Why did you summon me?" He asked to the pair, who sat close to each other now, while sitting down opposite of them.

"We received a few letters, sent to our next stop their content were too important to wait so they were brought here." Tyrion explained to him, while Jon witnessed how Sansa searched his fingers to entangle them with her own. "We thought you should know."

"What is it?" Jon asked anxious, fearing something terrible had happened, father, Robb, but calmed down reminding himself that Sansa wouldn't be so calm if something would have happened to them.

"It seems there will be battle, in the Kingswood. Your father has lead the banners of the King against Renly and plans to wait for him in the forest." Tyrion continued, squeezing Sansa's hand, she was leaning against him. But Jon didn't notice, he was processing the information he had just received.

Of course they had gotten news from the war from time to time, but only snippets. Jon knew his father prepared the first strike against Renly but that, they most likely were fighting right now, considering how long letters needed, even with ravens. Or were the battle already over, was his father death, his brother?

Jon looked up to the pair in front of him, seeing how Sansa obviously searched reassurance in her husband's presence.

"I am sure they will be fine." Sansa said to him, her voice still sounding cheerful, even if Jon asked himself now if it was only fake. "You heard as well as I that Robb is only in a scout unit, he will be safe, as well as father, I am sure."

"Of course they will." Tyrion assured both of them, sounding certain. "Even if the battle goes lost, Renly wants to be a generous King, no harm will come to them." Sansa had laid her head on her husband' shoulder and he started to stroke her hair affectionate. Jon tried to ignore it, acknowledging that his little sister was married was one thing but actually seeing it was too much for his brotherly heart. But he had his own feelings to distract him, feeling of insecurity and fear, because he wasn't sure if his father and brother were alive, or unharmed, shamed because he was here, in this carriage instead with them. Anger with himself, no matter what Robb said he should have gone with him, fight with his brother. Not being here, feeling useless.

"You're probably right, either way we can't do anything." Sansa whispered, sounding a bit more assured then Jon was but he could hear the worries she had tried to hide.

"Yes, we can't do anything, except from wallow in luxury once arrived at Casterly Rock." Jon vented his feelings, puffing out air.

"I am not so sure about that." Tyrion objected, grinning bland at him, maybe wanting to distract them he continued. "For once I for my part have to look up the dreams the little brother of yours had…"

"Please, you can't be serious." Sansa injected, sounding unbelieving. She had turned her head resting her chin on Tyrion's shoulder, looking in his eyes with a strange expression, visibly relieved for a change of topic. "He fell from a tower and you want to support his dreams and believes of flying one day?"

"My dear, I promised him, and a Lannister always pays his debts." Tyrion defended himself, only receiving a snort from Sansa, something Jon had never heard from her while she pushed herself in a straight position. "I will do as promised, searching in the library every day." Tyrion continued, not acknowledging the snort, putting his hand over his heart.

"Don't you think you could use that to shift your duties on me, spending your time in the library?" Sansa fixed her husband with a stare, Jon felt suddenly very much like a fish out of water. His sister was redirecting her feeling in front of his eyes to avoid thinking about their family in danger, Jon could see that, he wished to be able to do that himself.

"I wouldn't dare, not to mention that there are things I have to manage." Tyrion defended himself, turning to Jon. "Apparently there is an increase of Ironborn attacks in the Sunset Sea. I am not sure but maybe Balon Greyjoy will try something stupid while the rest of Westeros is at war. However maybe we will have to remind him of his duties." Tyrion looked at Jon expectantly, playing with his fists, speaking in a low voice.

Jon wasn't dense, he knew Tyrion implied an invasion of the Iron Islands. But somehow Jon doubted Greyjoy would risk his son's life, Theon was a hostage. But then for Jon the prospect of a fight didn't frightened him, he had no idea why but he somehow welcomed it, even if he wasn't sure why.

"You can put that idea right out of your mind, you won't go to war." Sansa schooled her husband out of nothing, drawing Jon's attention back to her. She was now glaring dangerously at Tyrion and Jon had the feeling he should get out of this carriage as soon as possible.

He excused himself, taking Ghost with him, before Tyrion could reply to Sansa's words, practically fleeing the scene. He had no desire to be witness to the upcoming discussion. Also he had to think of his own, the prospect of a new battlefield being opened in the Westerlands took over his mind, confused feelings commanded his thinking. He now knew why he welcomed it, it would make him useful.

-##-

Four days later Jon saw the Rock and Lannisport for the first time, starring open mounded he rode through the streets of the large city. Looking at the castle nobody could argue it was huge.

And here was he, Jon Snow, being at the court of his sister's husband, in the midst of a war and even more of it was lying in the air.

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**Hope I satisfied all the expectations (and wishes), don't worry next chapter won't be a filler and then ... no, not yet**

**More Sansa and Tyrion as promised, I know it was Sansa's turn but Tyrion's perspective was too good to waste**

**Enjoyed? Review**


	18. Jaime IV

**I own nothing**

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Robb

Robb and his scouts rode towards the range of hills in front of them, following Grey Wind's nose. His Direwolf had sensed something.

His father had given Robb thirty men, a very large scout unit, maybe simply because he wanted him to be safe. Robb had gotten some very tough old warriors for his group, most likely out of the same reason. Like the old Paxter, the man in his forties had already fought aside of his father during Robert's Rebellion. But there were also many nobles under his men.

First his father had said he should prove himself, and at the same time getting to know the men, he would rule one day, better. The Smalljon Umber, Torrhen and Eddard Karstark and Wendel Manderly for example.

First Robb had problems, commanding older men he hadn't know well, but it came all naturally, only Theon was still a problem for him. He was his friend, ordering him around wasn't something Robb was comfortable with, but it somehow worked, not least because they had a task and everybody had to do his part.

After the outcome of the battle of the Kingswood, two days prior, his father had ordered all scout units on a seek, capture or destroy mission deep into enemy's territory. They were to disturb supply lines, catching messengers or if possible even fighting small groups of reinforcements. All that was necessary to slow the enemy down, or more. This mission was crucial in order to make the best out of the battle.

Grey Wind had proven to be essential for Robb and his men. His animal senses gave them an advantage against anybody, nobody could sneaking up to them, they knew when anybody was near them long before they noticed them. Not to mention the wolf's usefulness in battle. It was nearly as if Robb and Grey Wind would be one when it came to a fight, it was strange and likewise amazing.

Reaching the top of the hill Robb saw the entire Reach, unfurling in front of his eyes. A large, flat country full with fields and small villages, and green, all he saw was green. He brought his dornish stallion to a stop and looked around, waiting for the stragglers.

They had left the Kingswood behind them this morning, the last day they had only encountered a few little groups of soldiers, not more. Robb and his men had surrounded them every time and after they surrendered Robb had sent two of his men with them to bring them behind their lines, ignoring Theon's advice to kill them to save time. His friend had very radical views when it came to war, and was very dismissive when it came to spare lives. Robb blamed his Ironborn upbringing, scolded him every time, hoping he would understand.

After all his men made it on top of the hill Robb overlooked the lands before him, following Grey Wind's senses he found what they searched.

A small convoy of maybe twenty riders, two carts with maybe two soldiers on each and a carriage were rushing over the Roseroad south. They weren't far away and even from afar Robb could see the green banner of House Tyrell. But he asked himself doubtful what he actually saw down there. For messengers they were too many and for a supply convoy to few.

"They heading in the wrong direction." The Smalljon commented dryly, coming to a stop besides Robb. The tall man was right.

"Who cares?" Theon objected, he was on Robb's other side. "They are the enemy, aren't they?" Theon grinned towards Robb, giving him a knowing expression.

"He is right, they ride under the rose of Highgarden. We should at least intercept them." Torrhen Karstark agreed, his hand already on his sword.

"We are here to interfere with our enemy's campaign in the north, not attack random groups." Wendel Manderly panted, playing with his moustache, to hide how exhausted the enormous man already were.

"Too lazy heh?" Daryn Hornwood snorted at him smiling wide. He always mocked his friend like this, he never had bad intentions, but Wendel were very delicate when somebody called him lazy, causing him to reach his top form in battle afterwards. "Greyjoy is right, they are under our enemy's banner. And they are in a hurry so we should stop them, could be something important."

"We attack." Robb declared, searching the eyes of the old Paxton for an approval of his decision. Robb hadn't to do so, but he felt better if he had somebody to ask. "We surround them, only strike them dead if you have to, I want as much of them alive as possible." Robb drew his sword, and after a small pause he spurred his horse and galloped down the hill.

He already felt Grey Wind running besides him, heating up for battle, blood boiling in anticipation. His men formed a wedge behind him, the grey Direwolf banner streaming in the wind. Robb had the fastest horse, so he hadn't to boost the stallion to his limits, his sword in the air, as soon as they were near enough he intoned:

"Winterfell!"

"Winterfell!" Came the battle cry back from his men, they were Northerners, no matter if they served Joffrey they fought for Winterfell.

The green coated enemy hadn't seen them until it was too late. They were in such a hurry that they had failed to be aware of their surroundings. The soldiers of the Reach hadn't enough time to form line when Robb and his superior numbers came down on them, chanting their battle cry.

Robb headed straight for the carriage, it was protected by five knights, all in very expensive armours.

He let Grey Wind run through the enemies' horses, brining disarray in them. Horses, especially the once not used to a Direwolf, spooked because of his wolf. Then the Direwolf attacked one of the knights, jumping at him and dismounted him easily. Pinning the knight on the ground Grey Wind growled in his helmet, barring his teeth, the knight didn't move while the wolf's salvia dripped from his teeth on his helmet.

Robb stormed through the line to the carriage, a knight with two roses on his crest engaged him immediately, while Theon and Eddard, tried to bring the carriage to a stop. The screams of the skirmish already rose around Robb's ears, men screaming, steal meeting steal.

The man attacking Robb was good, superior to Robb when they encountered each other sitting on their horses. But Robb's dornish horse was agiler, able to outsmart the ponderous knight. Given the opportunity Robb came pass him and rammed him the hilt of his sword in the back.

But the knight didn't fall of his saddle, he turned again, nearly decapitating Robb with a swing of his sword, it was close for Robb but then Dacey Mormont, the only woman in his unit, came to his aid. The skilful Mormont woman from the Bear Island attacked the knight with her mace, bringing him out of balance and enabling Robb to disarming him.

Bare a weapon and with an opponents on each side the knight surrendered, lifting his hands. Robb, smirked for a second before remembering his duty as commander and looked around, concerned for his men.

It looked like the fight was won, as far as Robb could see four of his men were death, Halys, Beren, Pad and Haldur. Six of the enemy were dead as well. Theon had the horses, dragging the carriage at their reins, bound to his saddle while having the carter under control with his bow, grinning arrogant at the terrified man. His other men had the enemies at the tip of their weapons, forcing them to dismount their animals and gathered them at one of the carts, Robb could now see both of them were full with luggage.

"What's your name?" Robb asked the knight in front of him, he suspected him to be the leader of the convoy, not alone because of his expensive amour but also because the men of the Reach looked at him searching for guidance. The knight slowly took his helmet of, revealing flowing brown hair and a handsome face.

"I am Ser Garlan Tyrell of Highgarden." He introduced himself, bowing his head before glancing nervously towards the knight on the ground with Grey Wind above him, before returning his eyes to Robb. "May I know your name?"

"Robb Stark of Winterfell." Robb returned the courtesies of bowing his head after removing his helmet with one hand. "You are hereby under arrest. You will receive all honours suitable for a prisoner of your status as long as you act as such, my word on it." Robb assured the man with a pointed look.

"Is that so? Then may I ask you to call back the wolf away from my bother Loras." Ser Garlan asked respectful, glancing back to the man on the ground. Robb called Grey Wind off, letting the man stand while Eddard rode behind him and gestured him to drop his weapons. "Thank you." Ser Garlan said to Robb, tension leaving his face.

Robb wanted to ask why they were in such a hurry when the door of the carriage was opened. The heads of Ser Garlan and his brother snapped to the door, fear in their expressions.

Robb turned as well, searching the reason for they distress. His eyes widened when a soft curled brown head appeared from the inside of the carriage. A girl with perfect unblemished skin stepped out of the carriage, looking up at Robb with large brown eyes.

"I suppose when everybody surrenders than I have to as well." She spoke to Robb, still looking at him. "I am Margaery Tyrell, and I surrender myself to your hands Lord Stark."

She bowed her head to him. Robb was struck silent by her appearance, this he hadn't expected. He had no idea what to say, his mind was blank, dazzled by her. Never had he seen a beauty such as hers.

"My Lady." He finally pressed out, gulping hard, bowing deep in his saddle, relieved he hadn't stuttered. All his men around him were silent as well, their eyes on her.

"Hey!" Dacey ripped Robb out of his stiffness with her confident and clear tone. "Aren't you Renly's wife?" She asked straightforward, riding towards the Lady, fixing Lady Margaery with her eyes. Robb freed his eyes from her looking at her brothers, they wanted to say something but Lady Margaery was quicker, drawing his attention back to her.

"His…

Jaime

Jaime felt like standing on a cliff wind blowing around him, everything was dark, an endless void surrounded him. He felt like the weight of a thousand men would lie on his shoulders, he was pressed down, pain radiated through his body. His hand pained, his ears, his head, everything, like he was on fire and frozen at once.

Jaime wanted to scream, but nothing escaped his throat. Then, laughter, the sound of the wind morphed into laughter. Jaime knew that laughter, the Mad King's laughter.

A light appeared in the distance, Jaime wanted to run to it hoping to escape whatever dread he was captured in.

He failed, his legs yielded, colliding with the hard ground.

Jaime looked up, gathering his strength, searching for something in the light. Help, anything.

The face of a boy formed in it.

The Stark-boy

Jaime remembered that expression, he had it when he throw him from the tower. Jaime saw the boy fall again. A lightning of pain flashed through him.

A dark fog formed around him, showing him more images.

Elia Martell wandering through the Red Keep with her children.

Rhaegar looking at him, bitterly

Himself pledging the oath for the Kingsguard

Then again, laughter, the Mad King's laughter

Around him out of the fog emerged the faces of men – the Kingsguard, the White Bull, Martell, Dayne, they looked down on him, staring at him with cold expressions.

The laughter became deafening and Jaime tried to protect his ears, it became more and more. Screams now played in the laughter as well. Jaime was in agony, screaming himself in unconsciousness, while the images flashed before him.

Elia

Her children

The Stark-boy

Over and over again.

The light extended, encircling him, Jaime felt nothing and then…

-##-

Blinking repeatedly Jaime opened his eyes, his head was roaring like hell and his nose hurt, maybe I was broken, it felt broken. The dream was gone, but he felt his back sweating, a bad dream indeed, but what had it been? He tried to move, only to discover that he was tied up with his hands behind his body. Slowly reminding what had happened after the battle he looked around, putting his vague memories of the nightmare aside, his instinct for survival kicked in.

He was leant against a tree, sitting in the mud, the shadow of the thick forest allowing him not to be dazzled. Looking around he searched and found the back of the blue coated knight kneeling near what looked like a makeshift fireplace but without a fire. The man who knocked him out had his helmet removed and Jaime could see his short straw-coloured hair.

He hadn't killed Jaime, that was good, or at least that was what Jaime thought. But then he could have expected that from a member of Renly's Rainbowguard, all of his knights were so full of this childish ideas of nobility and valour. Not to mention that Jaime was a prisoner worth a great reward. He realised that, whoever had captured him, wouldn't kill him, out of intelligence or the idea of knighthood. However Jaime could exploit that, he had to escape. But first he had to get rid of his ties, totally incapable of doing anything but, he called out.

"Hey! You!" He called out for him and indeed the knight rose to his impressive statue and turned around, causing Jaime to stare at him in shock, nearly gasping for air.

In front of him stood one of the most hideous creatures he had ever seen, including his little brother. A with freckles littered coarse face showed itself to him, a frown appearing on it, making its crooked nose even uglier.

Jaime hadn't expected that, how did Renly, so focussed on beauty, let such a creature near him?

After the initial shock of the unforeseen fainted Jaime mustered his captor more precisely. He hadn't quite figured out what felt so strange about the man when it hit him.

"Are you a woman?" He asked, genuinely surprised. Despise the unfeminine appearance, like the flat chest, this body didn't belong to a man, no, this was a woman in front of him. Jaime couldn't avoid that a smile curled in the corners of his mound, this odd picture of him, Jaime Lannister, called the most handsome knight in the seven Kingdoms, bound to a tree by this person, an ugly woman dressed like a knight, and able to fight as one as well, Jaime hadn't forgotten that, in his mind.

The only acknowledgment of his conscious state or his question from her was a grunt before she turned back to the pile of woods, leaving him be.

Jaime knew he had to get free somehow, had to go back to King's Landing, to Cersei, to the war. Was the battle won or lost? Had the capitol fallen? He needed to know but in order to get free he needed to learn more from his unlikely captor. He needed to know so he could manipulate her to let him free or make her slip her guard somehow so he could get rid of her.

"What's your name?" He asked her, putting so much snootiness and smugness in his voice as possible. After all he was Ser Jaime Lannister, a member of the Kingsguard, and what was she? "A knight has the right to know the name of his captor you know? I am Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, member of the Kingsguard."

"I know who you are – Kingslayer." She finally broke her silence, her voice betraying what Jaime already new, she was a woman, with a very judgmental tone. "And you are no knight."

"Really? And how would you know?" Jaime replied, fighting not to become angry, this wasn't the plan. But when she wanted to be honest about who they truly were so be it and he added, as much dismissive as he could manage: "Wench"

The word had been spoken and her head snapped over her shoulder, she glared at him, her mound grimacing only lightly, but with swollen lips revealing very prominent crooked teeth. Jaime grinned back provoking, playing calm, waiting patiently. Maybe she would come to him, hit him, maybe he could get her dagger somehow.

"Brienne of Tarth" A short answer to his former question came over her lips, giving Jaime confidence. He got what he wanted and all he had to do was to poke her a bit and she hadn't shown any sign of violence towards him, this would be fun. Why should he be serious and grim escaping his situation?

"I see." He continued the onside conversation, grinning confident. While scanning all the little he knew about the island Tarth in his head. "Good to meet you, may I ask what will happen next? Oh and could you be as kind to remove my fetters."

"You are my prisoner, Kingslayer, and I will bring you to his Grace." She had turned back to the fireplace and Jaime could hear how a stone met steel, she tried to make a fire. "It's morning, we will eat and then I will bring you south to the King."

"Why bother? I am sure he wants me only for my head, you could bring him it." Jaime replied snappy. "But be assured, my sister will pay much more than Renly ever could, and not only for my head, as long as I am in one piece."

"I swore an oath to the King and I won't break him, I am not you." She said cold, again judgemental, making Jaime nearly angry again. "But you are my prisoner a so no harm will come to you, I will bring you to the King and he will decide what to do with you."

'Ah, honour, a vision of what is righteous.' Jaime thought to himself smiling in the inside. This illusions girl, Jaime was now convinced that she couldn't be very old, maybe in her early twenties, thought of herself as a loyal, noble knight.

She continued trying to make a fire, hammering a stone against her sword. Jaime looked around, searching for his own sword and finding it on a pile of steel at a tree. It was his armour, looking down on himself, not without being punished by a headache, he noticed that he was only in his doublet, she had removed his armour.

"You undressed me?" He asked her laughing, fixing her again. "Enjoyed it? Did you liked what you saw?" Jaime asked, observing her reaction. Even from his view on her cranked back he could see how she averted her eyes in shame. If she couldn't even stand such a harmless question. Jaime was in for more fun than he had thought. Nevertheless she didn't reply, continuing with the stone and her sword. "You do that wrong you know that?"

"Silence." She sapped in defiance because his helpful words of advice.

"What is it?" Jaime teased her. "Insecure? Is it that because you're here, all dressed up like a knight? Not even able to make a simple fire, didn't anybody wanted to marry you because of that lack of domestic skills, Wench?"

In a split second a frustrated snort escaped the woman and she sprung around and in another split second she stood before him glaring down in his eyes. Jaime looked up to her, grinning wide, gazing back in her big eyes. Suddenly he wondered, despite all her ugliness, her eyes were different, she had astonishing blue eyes, sparkling with fire.

She did nothing, instead she straightened up and went to the pile where his sword laid. Jaime observed her how she picked up anything she presumed to be useful. He hadn't to scold her for her choices and didn't spite her either during the process, simply because he feared she could leave something he would need as soon as he got rid of her just out of defiance. She wrapped everything she had picked up in his white cloak and fastened her new bag on her back before she returned to him, picking up her sword at the fireplace and sheeting it.

The woman produced a robe and a knife, kneeling down before Jaime.

"Oh please, such token of submission are too much." He razzed her, grinning in her face. With an impassive face, but a glare to him she took another short robe and bound it around the tree he was lying at before using the long robe to tie one of his hands to the robe around the tree. She then cut his original bounds around his wrists, gripping his one now free hand with a warning glare to him. She turned Jaime roughly around, dragging him on his arm before binding his wrist again, but with the long robe. After cutting the robe around the three she cut Jaime's fetters on his feet and lifted him on his feet.

The sensation of standing up so fast made him staggering, coming back to his senses another conceited grin was thrown by him to her. His hands were now tied in front of him. Looking over his shoulder he observed how she adjusted the bag on her back and then urged him forward.

"Go." Came another of her uncommunicative waste of air but spoken with determination, still, Jaime slowly began to ask himself how extensive her vocabulary was.

"No breakfast?" He asked mocking the cold pile of woods she couldn't enlighten. She shoot him a venomous glance in order to push him to start going. "Honey?" He mocked her, emphasizing every single letter, grinning wide. When nothing happened he turned to overlook their 'camp'. "How are we supposed to leave the wood without horses?"

"On foot." Jaime couldn't believe it, was she daft?

"Have you any idea how big this forest is?" He asked, annoyed this time. She looked at him with a blank expression her face showing nothing but seriousness.

"We have no horses."

"Yes because you scarred them." Jaime tried to break her stiff face. "Wench."

"Go" She pushed him forward, causing him to stumble. This time Jaime had broken her façade, smiling in the inside. She was angry, maybe with herself or with Jaime, most likely with him. But it was really her fault, it had been her sword that had hit a horse and let them flee, as well as she had failed to catch them again. He thought about rubbing her nose in it but thought better. He had to find a way to escape, or trick her in the wrong direction, he couldn't just have his fun. Jaime had to go back. So he looked to a tree, trying to estimate in which direction she wanted him to go.

"We go in the wrong direction, Wench." Jaime began to tease her lightly after walking a few feet, grinning over his shoulder in her pinched face. "Not that I would bother that you decided to bring me back to the capitol. But I think my honour as knight require me to inform you that south is that direction, Wench." Jaime nodded north, orienting himself on the moss at the trees, hoping she had never learned how to find her way.

"You have no honour, Kingslayer." A judgemental reply followed on his attempted trick, making him frown this time.

"What did you know, Wench?" Jaime snapped, offended. He had just rode with the Blackfish, what did she know about his honour?

"I know the sun wanders in this direction, and consequently there is south." She educated him determined, showing him the course of the sun with her finger. If she was satisfied with herself, catching him lying she didn't show it.

"If you had shown such perspicacity during yesterday's battle you might have chosen the right side." Jaime grinned at her confident, looking over to her impassive serious form, unsatisfied he turned back.

"Three days."

"What?" Jaime asked bewildered, stopping for a moment and turned, a questioning expression on his face.

"The battle was three days ago."

What? He had been unconscious for three days? What happened? Had she been taken care of him for so long? Thinking about it this was unbelievable, and with a similar tone to this he asked: "You survived three days without a fire?"

An unreadable grunt escaped her before she shoved the wide grinning Jaime forward.

-##-

The sun had already crossed its peak for some time now. The entire morning they had wandered through the Kingswood, not meeting a single soul. Jaime's captor was very taciturn and so they walked in silence, Jaime had decided to let her alone with his commentaries for a while only poking on her guard from time to time, let alone because he couldn't do anything in his current position, she was smart, forcing him to go first, not letting her guard down, not giving him an opportunity, but also because he needed the time to think.

Three days, he had slept three days, how was that possible, and even worse he had no idea what had happened all the time he slept. His initial fear the capitol would already be taken had blew away, even if the battle had gone lost, what he somehow doubted, Renly could just have arrived at King's Landing by now. No matter, Cersei would be safe, he knew of Stark's plan to secure the royal family's safety.

His sister was safe, for sure, but for how long? He had to find her, secure her safety, he had too. Not alone, he also didn't want to give Ned Stark the opportunity to do what his rightful his to do, protecting her.

Jaime had to escape out of this woman's fangs and going back, or luring her to bring him back.

Actually Jaime would prefer the second alternative. His first intend to get rid of her and wandering alone through the Kingswood was premature, two would be better than in this forest. Jaime would need her, but not bound like this. But on the other side spending more time than necessary with her wasn't something he desired at all.

It wasn't that she dressed like a knight, even thought she would be one, her acting nobler than Ned Stark or even her look. Jaime admitted that he thought her ugly, maybe the ugliest woman he had ever seen, but giving Jaime's brother he had no disdain for her appearance and there were her eyes though.

But for him it was useful to exploit her self-consciousness about herself, she was easy to shame for sure as well. Jaime had thought about just taking a piss on a tree, seeing if she would turn away and blush, most likely. He could use all this against her, making her life as undesirable as possible so she would give in to bring him back or let her guard slide.

At least that had been the plan.

But after an entire morning with her he wasn't so sure anymore if this would work. For sure she was stubborn, like a donkey. What bothered Jaime as well, and at the same time fascinated him, was that she had no problem with saying what she thought. Not many would have the guts to call him Kingslayer in such a judgmental fashion, bound or not.

He had to find a way to turn her, to make her understand it would be better for her to bring him north, maybe persuading her it would even be the right thing to do. Like he said, he would only unwillingly killing her. She had nursed him tree days, prevailed his life instead of letting him die and for the wolves. He knew he owed her and a Lannister pays his debts, even if that mean not to kill her at the first opportunity.

He could, last time she had only beaten him because he had been sloppy, because of his ventail, next time would be different. But he didn't want another face for his dreams either.

Yes, the dream haunted him as well, the Stark-boy's face when he had been pushed from the tower, Rhaegar's face, the cries, the screams, the Mad King laughing. Jaime had to get that out of his head, he had to.

They reached a tree line, Jaime already saw how the light shined into the dark forest from a clearing. He wanted to step out in the sunlight but strangely his leash stopped him. He turned around, looking bewildered to his captor.

The woman gestured him to wait and walked passed him on the clearing. Once again smart, watching out for scouts. A grin formed on Jaime's face while he watched her clumsy attempts to scan the meadow, looking around, standing there like the tower of Oldtown. When she turned back around she gave him one of this judgmental looks, like he would amuse himself on her expense again.

"You are much uglier in sunlight." Jaime commented, giving her the satisfaction, and yes her hair had an odd colour in the light.

Again she looked down on him, pinched, before yanking his leash and dragging him back in front of her.

He began strolling over the clearing, humming a song and pretended to be in an extraordinary good mood, as if nothing was about it. He assumed it must drive her crazy.

When they reached approximately the centre of the meadow Jaime had enough of humming and decided it was time to tickle more information out of her.

"Say me, why serves a highborn Lady, such as you, Renly in his rebellion? And not as a pretty sidekick, even if I doubt you could pass as such, but as member of his Rainbowguard" Jaime asked, mocking every word, spitting out the word 'Rainbowguard'.

"None of your concern, Kingslayer." Again, this judgemental tone, but this time there was more, she hid something Jaime could sense it. He turned around, facing her but continued to walk backwards, mustering the woman.

"Did you fancy him?" He grinned, her adverting eyes betrayed her, Jaime had her. "You did fancy him." He laughed out, turning again away from the caught woman. "And did he fancy you too?" He asked, letting a pause dangle over them. "I doubt it. You are certainly not his type." A frustrated grunt from behind him made him grin over his conclusions. "But you want him to, right?" He turned around again, fixing her as if they would be in court and he her prosecutor. "Is it that why you are so determined to bring me to him?" Her expression was again proof enough for Jaime, laughing again he turned back, mocking again. "I fear you will be disappointed. As soon as you bring my pretty rock hard ass before him all his attention will be on me, you will be forgotten."

"I won't bring you north, Kingslayer."

"Why not? Wench." Jaime snapped at her impassive tone, looking over his shoulder.

"I swore an oath, I am loyal to my Renly, not that you would understand."

"I understand very well, but say me what thinks a Wench, such as you, with such high morals about the man who rises up in rebellion against his own nephew? Fighting only for his own lust for power?"

"Renly is a good man, he only wants the best for the Kingdoms, he will be a good King."

"Justifies she the man going to war, despite the law, against his own blood with foggy words." Jaime commented dryly, knowing full well against whose blood Renly was fighting so unaware. But he also heard a crack in her voice, he had found what he had looked for. "You should be aware that kinslaying is…"

His tirade was interrupted by her hand on his shoulder, she squeezed him hard and when he turned he saw her looking to her right, following her gaze he found what was dreading her.

Two riders were coming from the tree line to their right in a haste paste. Jaime couldn't determine what colour their crests bore or if they even were in service of a noble house at all. However, he assume the worst case, stepping back to be in one line with the woman. They had seen them, most likely, it looked like they were approaching them.

"Give me my sword." He hissed in her ear, making her turn her head to him.

"What?"

"Best case, they are in service of your King, or in service of mine and are ordered to search one of us, meaning we survive." Jaime explained, meaning it when he said she would survive if that were his search party, he would pay his debt. "Worse case, they are outlaws, or they are men of one King ordered to kill the one of us in service of the wrong King, so give me my sword."

She had an uncertain look on her face, she was considering his words, but eventually she turned away from him. Jaime growled in frustration, how daft could she be? But at least she put her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"Who are you?" The woman dressed as a knight shouted towards the approaching men, making Jaime cringe because of her lack of secrecy, hadn't she listened? Do not crave for the attention of possible foes.

"Servants of the true King of Storm's End." Came the reply when the men with the now visible stag on their crests stopped before them. The woman looked very relieved while Jaime was disappointed. So close.

"You're Lady Brienne right?" The other rider asked.

"Lady" Jaime chuckled mockingly in the ear of his captor, deciding he could have fun, giving the fact that the rider didn't came to his rescue.

"I am." The woman started to chat with the men in front of them, without a sign of precaution. "This is the Kingslayer, I captured him."

"The Kingslayer?" one of them exhaled surprised, starring greedy down on Jaime, this wasn't good, something was wrong.

"Yes I want to bring him to King Renly so he might judge him." His captor explained proud and determine, Jaime looked to her, she looked as if she wanted acknowledgment for her deed.

"The maid of Tarth captured the Kingslayer?" Came an unbelieving reply. Jaime chuckled again, hearing her nickname for the first time. He leaned over to her again and whispered:

"Why don't I question that?" Mocking in his tone he turned his attention back to the rider, realising they had tensed up, there arms were angled. They weren't relaxed, as if someone would expect, no they made themselves ready to strike. But Why? They were all friends here, or? Panic rose in Jaime, something was terribly wrong and the daft woman didn't notice. "Look at them, Wench." He warned her whispering, eyeing the mounted men thoughtful, hoping not to be heard by the men. "They don't look very friendly towards you, do they?"

"Silence" She hissed back, leaving Jaime dumbfounded.

"Are you blind? They are not here for chatting. Give me my sword" He whispered again, while malicious grins formed on the faces in front of him.

"Sadly we have a very bad revelation for you." The man to their right said grinning, drawing his sword. The left one guided his horse to the side, drawing his own sword too. "Renly is dead, Stannis is our King. He has claimed the Stormlands and declared all loyal to Renly outlawed, especially his Rainbowguard. Both of you will come with us."

"The Kingslayer will be a nice addition for us." The left man's sword was now near Jaime's head. He was cursing the stupid wench who was looking aghast at the man. "We will be Lords, come on Kingslayer." The sword reached Jaime's throat.#

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**Two updates in one week, huh**

**So first of all, I hadn't intended to write Robb but then I decided to stay only with the family without to many addition**

**I brought a lot dead people back, advantage of this AU**

**Sorry because of Loras, again no luck, but he is a good fighter and it would cause problems if he kills just now, so Direwolf salvia**

**I had really problems with Jaime and Brienne, I hope next time will be better, but let's see, I don't like how it is right now, but ... I really wish a beta right now**

**No Sansa and Tyrion, sorry**

**Next week won't be a chapter, most likely sorry but I am flooded with work**

**Please Review, please, please, all of you**

**Oh, yes the dream: somehow had to start a redemption arc of sort**


	19. Tyrion

**Ok, this is sooner than I actually can, but I decided to make room for you guys**

** Important NOTE: Officially search for a beta again**

**More at the end**

**As usually I own nothing**

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Tyrion dreamy listened to Sansa's humming a sweet melody while their carriage made its way through the bumpy streets of Lannisport. He had his head laid in her lap, the soft material of her dress comforting his cheek, his wife's hand absently stroke through his hair. Tyrion could see her eyes were directed out of the window through a mirror on the other side of the cabin.

He was tired, the journey back home had been long and hard and the last days had been the hardest. The worries for her father and her brother had consumed Sansa, beyond the point where Tyrion had any idea how to comfort her. He had tried every trick in his repertoire, becoming desperate. He had tried to distract her, tried to scatter her dark thoughts with comforting words, had given assurances but in the end all his words had been dust because she knew he hadn't been sure either The only thing he had been able to do had been offering her his presence, holding her while whispering his calming but made up words in her ear.

Tyrion had hated it, not the comfort he had provided her, but his helplessness. Until then he had always been able to do something or say or buy something to make her smile again, since the first weeks of their marriage he had always succeeded lifting her mood, but this situation was different, war was different.

He worried too, of course, for his brother, Jaime, but not as much as she did for her father and brother. Jaime was an excellent swordfighter and Tyrion doubted very much that he would let anybody kill him. Lannisters weren't easy to kill, unless they went hunting, as Tyrion's high father had proven.

To Tyrion's and Sansa's relief they had overcome the dark days this morning, when a messenger had intercepted them on the last leg to Lannisport. He had carried a short notice, directly from the battlefield.

The battle was won and considering Lord Stark had ordered to send the message to all loyal Houses conclusively he had to be alive. There had also been no word of Robb Stark's or Jaime's death. Sansa had immediately rose out of the dark depths of her mind, her mood lifted joyfully.

They had celebrated a bit in their carriage, drinking on the health of their families, they had been exuberant, this was a good day, a very good in Tyrion's view.

Somehow they ended up like this, her looking out of the window, smiling at the townsfolk while humming and he having his head in her lap, enjoying to be together. Tyrion liked it, very much, he looked around in the cushioned carriage finding the eyes of Sansa's wolf staring at him with her yellow eyes.

Tyrion grinned, he had finally bested the Direwolf to her lap. Since she allowed it Tyrion had always liked to place his head in her lap, feeling very close to her. She then would down at him and he would smile back. But since the wolf took over the third position in their relationship, a position Tyrion had no idea existed, the wolf claimed his spot. But not today, today was Tyrion's turn to be caress in Sansa's lap, not hers.

The Direwolf crooked his head, looking accusatory at Tyrion in what she thought would be her spot. Tyrion just grinned in the animal's direction, sticking his tongue out, celebrating his victory. But sadly for him the wolf was smart, she exhaled a light whimper, ducking her head.

"Oh, Lady, what is it?" Sansa's attention immediately turned to her wolf, who was seemingly in distress. She untangled her hand out of Tyron's hair reaching out to pet the wolf's head. "Don't you like the drive through the streets?"

Sansa stood up, forcing Tyrion out of his comfortable occupation Grumbling low he sat back straight, shooting Lady a murderous glare. The wolf on the other hand panted joyful when Sansa focused all her attention on her pet.

Tyrion was frustrated now, glaring angry at the wolf who outsmarted him, but only for a second. Who was he kidding? Lady had grown on him as much as she had on Sansa. First he hadn't thought it possible, but by now he wouldn't give the Direwolf away for anything, she had become a part of the family. He couldn't be angry with the wolf he rather schooled himself for being so stupid to thing the wolf would acknowledge defeat.

For that the female Direwolf was way too much like Sansa, but not only in this. Tyrion couldn't deny that Lady was a wolf version of her mistress, with manners, Tyrion sometimes thought were better than his own. The wolf was trusting with a gentle nature, gracious and noble, like Sansa. Tyrion liked to have her around, even if it wasn't always easy, especially when he wanted to spend time alone with Sansa.

First he had tried to send the wolf outside, but no matter what he tried Lady only took orders from Sansa, he could only suggest something and if the Direwolf was in the mood she followed his suggestion. Eventually Sansa had sent Lady away, but in the afterwards Lady's hurt eyes had been too much for her and so Tyrion had to become used to a Direwolf curled up in front of his bed for the time Sansa and he spend time alone. In the Godswood of Winterfell, when nobody looked, the wolf hadn't curled away somewhere, but like he said Lady had more manners than he had, looking politely away.

Tyrion also didn't take offense in her sleeping with them the rest of the time, even if in some night the wolf wandered off with much nose, disturbing him, looking around. But then one of the best memories Tyrion had of her was when he had decided to follow her someday and found her growling at a servant who had behaved rather inappropriate in the hallways of Winterfell. Like he said, the wolf was very much like Sansa.

Tyrion actually suspected there was some sort of bond between Sansa and Lady, something that made both alike. For example, when he decided to leave the bed during the night to read, while Sansa was sleeping, he did that from time to time when he felt restless, there was always Lady curling up beside him, when he sat in the next room so he wouldn't disturb Sansa's sleep. It was then, when he was alone with the wolf when it felt like Sansa would still be with him. This feeling confused him, but also comforted him in a way he still didn't fully understand. This went so far that, when he left Sansa, he took Lady with him as often as possible, just to have the feeling of Sansa being near him.

But all of these mysteries about the wolf weren't even the strange things. Since Sansa had her wolf Tyrion had been woken up every once in a while. And not from Sansa, playing her game of playfully annoying him, or using her wolf to do it, no. Sansa was barking in her sleep, and short afterwards he would hear Lady barking or howling outside. During the first time he had though he would still dream or it would just have been a coincidence, but after the second time he had asked Sansa. Her only reply had been that she had dreamed.

On the one hand Tyrion found it hilarious that his wife, with her perfect manners would bark or howl in her sleep and that her wolf would do the same, but on the other hand he found it more than strange. He was so curious about this that he was determent to look it up, as soon as he had his library back, what else could he do? Asking someone? They would think him madder than Aerys. As long as he had no explanation he took it as a sign that his suspicion Lady and her mistress would share a certain bond would be true. Maybe this was also the reason Sansa always jumped when the wolf had a boo-boo or pretended to have one.

"You look grouchy." Sansa commented amused, bringing him back out of his mind and to her. He hadn't noticed that he still stared at the wolf in such a fashion. He straightened up, as much as possible before he would drown in the soft sea of cushions again, looking up to Sansa. She kneeled on the floor before Lady, who still laid on the cushioned bench, petting her pet but looking at him.

"I feel a bit neglected by my Lady wife, that's all." He exaggerated, pursing his lips like a child.

On that Sansa mustered him in a doubtfully fashion, trying to look serious. Tyrion knew she was playing and he kept up his hurt façade.

But he was the first failing, his façade breaking, a barked laughter escaped a wide grin forming on his face. Sansa joined quickly afterwards, raising from the floor she throw herself at his side, giggling at him.

"Poor husband" She purred in a high voice, placing her arms on his shoulders she turned him to face her. Her blue eyes gleamed when she lowered her head and kissed Tyrion on the lips. Feeling her soft lips he let his hands wander over her body, until one of them reached her cheek and he cupped it. Wanting more he pushed himself up to deepen the kiss.

Unintended he fell forward, dragging Sansa with him. Both tumbled down, Sansa on the cushioned bench, exhaling a surprised japs when their contact broke and she was buried in the soft material covering the bench. Tyrion hadn't so much luck, he managed it to roll of, trying to make an elegant landing but only flopped on the floor with a thud. He groaned loud when he painfully hit the wooden floor, rolling on his back.

This hadn't been planned at all, now his entire body ached from the sudden collision with the ground. Tyrion experimentally moved his limps, groaning even more by a numb feeling. He glanced up to the side where Sansa was when her head peaked out from on the bench, her long auburn hair tangling over the edge down to him. Tyrion gave her an apologetic expression, only to see how a wide smile creped on her face, turning slowly in wild giggling.

And as he thought this would be all, him lying on the ground like an ungracefully sack of weed Lady jumped down on the floor straddling him. The Direwolf was already far bigger than he was with his small statue. Over him she started to lick his face. Tyrion tried to push her away, his hands patting on her fur but failed while the wolf behaved as if he would be a hurt pup. Lady's grey fur blocked his vision, but he heard how Sansa's giggling developed into a loud hearty laughter, echoing in the carriage.

"Help" He managed to moan over the sound of Sansa's laughter and the wolf, licking his face. "Help please" With great relief he saw how Sansa showed mercy and guided the direwolf away from him with one hand, still lying on the bench, looking down on him. Her face was redden and her grin still wide.

After the wolf was away Tyrion wanted to stand up but before he could Sansa rolled from the bench, landing gracefully on him, taking the position her wolf had before. She had straddled him, her hands on either side of his head she lowered herself down again, resuming the kiss, more intense this time.

Tyrion cupping one of her cheeks again, forgetting what had been he lifted his head, tracing kisses along her jawline down her neck. She lowered herself deeper to grant him better access, she was now lying on him, her weight pressing their bodies together. Tyrion felt his breaches tighten, one of his hand wandering to her hips, the other franticly searching the laces on the back of her gown. One of her hands were playing in his hair before joining the other unlacing his doublet in the small space between them.

Tyrion's blood were hot in his veins, all around him forgotten when a knock on wood let him shriek up, as well as Sansa. He looked up, seeing Sansa's startled face, her red cheeks matching her hair. They had forgotten where they were, forgotten to close the curtains. In a fluid motion with again surprisingly grace Sansa shot up, looking around.

Sansa was the first founding a composure back, nervously trying to lace her laces on her gown back together. Tyrion slowly stood up, buttoning his doublet before going behind her and laced the laces for her while she was fumbling with her hair. In the meantime the knock had repeated at least two times, at the third time Tyrion became annoyed and shouted:

"We heard it the first time, what is it?" He was frustrated beyond any good mood and determined to fold together whoever had the impertinence to disturb them. "If there isn't a dragon attack from the sea you will regret it." He snapped at whoever was knocking waddling to the window, whose curtains were closed, Tyrion had no idea when that had happened, maybe Lady, ignoring it further he peaked his head out, his face grimaced in anger.

He found a servant crocked in himself, nearly shaking, he tried to avoid Tyrion's gaze as good as possible. Tyrion fixed him with his eyes, oblivious of his surroundings. He waited for the man to speak. It was then when he noticed the carriage had stopped.

Bewildered he looked around, observing the surroundings of the carriage before silently disappearing back in the cabin, slightly blushing.

Embarrassment flooded through him when he stepped back, spinning around to Sansa. He looked up in her eyes, she was a bit breathless, her hair was in disorder and her gaze unfocused. Tyrion tried to find the right words, stuttering before finally:

"We have arrived." He hoarsely pressed out, trying to bar out the memory of the large crowd outside the carriage, their entire court, his aunts and cousins, servants and soldiers, staring at him, whispering, outside in the yard of Casterly Rock.

"Oh" Sansa exhaled, sounding as embarrassed as he was before asking him anxious: "What have they seen?"

"Nothing, I hope, maybe they heard something."

"Oh, gods" Sansa buried her head in her hands, turning back and forth. This hadn't been planned at all, Tyrion himself was pretty embarrassed, not the graceful entrance he had planned, with his court bowing deep before him. "Why?"

"Just act naturally." Tyrion suggested, dragging gently at her elbow to get one of her hands down so he could take it. He guided her to the door and opened it forcefully, walking outside as impressive as he could, a stern expression on his face, his head up.

Sansa followed him, stepping out in the bright sunlight, he watched her out of the corner of his eyes, relieved that she did the same as he did. What else had he expected, Sansa was a too perfect Lady to fail in that.

The entire court became silent at their sight, reaching the end of the few steps, Lady short behind them, they could observe how the court of the Rock bowed respectfully before their Lord and Lady. The crowd remained bowed until both reached the centre of the place. Tyrion let his gaze wander over the crowd, pretending to inspect them but actually he didn't very much care. They had greeted them, they had bowed, and he didn't demand more, these was actually more than he demanded but he enjoyed it too much to let them know. Not to mention the distraction provided by it.

He and Sansa stood in the middle of the yard, Lady had sat down beside her mistress and their entourage was riding in the yard when his aunt Genna approached them. Tyrion smiled at his aunt before releasing everybody from this ceremony with a simple gesture of his hand. He had no interest in the long and boring greeting ceremony that could follow, not to mention that he had the urge to get to his chambers as soon as possible.

Sansa gave his hand a light tug, drawing his attention to her, she smiled down on him, making him forget everything around him again before nodding with her head in the direction where his cousins stood. He a bit disappointed he smiled back and she loosened their bond and went off. Tyrion watched her approaching the circle of girls awaiting Sansa, followed by Lady.

Even from his position, afar from them, Tyrion could see how they all smiled. Sansa stepped in the circle and the hugging and little dances or jumping began, accompanied by loud giggling. Tyrion observed how they smiled, talked, most likely in a speed he would never be able to follow. Then came Lady, walking up besides Sansa the awwes and oohs began all over again, the Direwolf was petted from all sides, hugged and complimented.

Short afterwards Tyrion witnessed how his cousins, who had travelled with him, joined the group. Cleos hugged his wife, and they all greeted each other. Tyrion saw this happy reunion he had really no interest of participating in. Sadly for him he was sure he would be obligated to say hello, now that even Dorna joined them with the little Janei on her arm, greeting her sons exuberant.

Only Jon and his wolf stood aside, Tyrion could well imagine why, it certainly wasn't easy for him just to dive in this sea of Lannister. But then Sansa took the initiative, pushing her bother in the midst of golden hair, even calling his white wolf to them. The greetings became even louder, Tyrion dreaded he would be next, luckily a voice from besides him demanded his attention.

"Let me guess, you went to King's Landing with one Stark and somehow you manage to take a detour North, returning with two Starks and two oversized wolves?" Genna commented the scene dryly, looking down on him. Tyrion hadn't noticed her still standing beside him, he turned around, expecting her mocking face but found a very serious instead. Not Good.

"I brought back one Stark, a bastard and two very friendly wolves you should start to like, like I do." He commented back, hoping her expression was just a façade. But there was no smile, looking closer in her face Tyrion found worry and sadness, why? "What is wrong?" He asked more seriously, dreading bad news.

"It's about Jaime." His aunt informed him, sighing deeply. Suddenly Tyrion's blood froze in his veins. Jaime, what was with him? Was he dead? No, impossible, he was Jaime, he wouldn't die. Tyrion starred at her, demanding an answer with his eyes. "He disappeared during the battle. They saw him chasing after Renly in the Kingswood since then there is no sign of him."

"Why is he… What?" Tyrion stuttered, not quite getting what she had said.

"He was ordered to kill Renly, when he fled, Jaime followed him and since then nothing. He hasn't returned and the search parties haven't found any sign of him either." Genna emphasized her feelings, betrayed by her voice, lying her hand on Tyrion's shoulder.

"This means nothing." Tyrion insisted, his mind racing. As long as his body wasn't found he would refuse to give his brother up, he could be captured or have lost his horse, Jaime had it with his horses. However Tyrion wouldn't give him up, even more he would help him. He wouldn't trust in search parties, men who were tired after a battle and not properly motivated. Tyrion would do something. He searched the yard for a random servant and when he found one he shouted. "You!" Tyrion pointed with a finger at the startled man, gesturing him to him. "Search Damion and bring him here, now!" The servant was faster away than Tyrion would have thought.

Watching the man running like a startled chicken Tyrion sighed, before turning to his aunt again, looking up to her, expecting more bad news, she had this look. He opened his arms questioning.

"There is more"

"Really?" He spat out, sounding more annoyed and frustrated than he wanted.

"Don't get funny with me!" Genna schooled him, glaring at him in a manner that made him feel guilty. He hated that, he was the Lord of the Rock, but as soon as Genna glared at him he was a little boy again, unable to speak. He gave her an apologetic look, bowing his head lightly. "Good." She crossed her arms over her chest and continued. "After you're finished with your attitude you should know that there are lordly duties waiting for you."

"I am sorry, what is it?" He pressed out, feeling somehow smaller.

"There was a massive increase of Ironborn attacks on our coast. Faircastle was attacked by them a day ago."

"What?" Faircastle a stronghold was on a little island just off the coast, how could the Ironborn dare to attack so close to the Mainland? "Are they crazy? What does Balon Greyjoy think? His own son is a hostage and he attacks?"

"Our sources report he has declared himself King a few days ago, he _is_ preparing an attack on the mainland." Genna told him her face tense. House Lannister had many 'sources' on the Iron Islands, many of their Lords were preferring the Lannister gold over anything else. Tyrion's father had made sure of that, this Lords would always disagree to attack the Westerlands, guiding all raids away and reporting to the Rock, in exchange for a gracious sum of gold every year. So much to their iron price, but if you are a fat lazy Lord you don't really care.

"They plan to attack us?" Tyrion asked bewildered, his head already filling with plans to avoid that.

"No, it seems Faircastle was a distraction and the Reach is their true target, especially the Shields and then the Mander." A smile creped on Tyrion's face, the old Balon was more devious than he had given him credit for. Why risking his son's life attacking his captures, why no attacking their rich enemies? Maybe he thought he would get away with it and the coronation but Tyrion suspected differ.

"It seems we won't have to worry then." Tyrion ended the matter grinning, looking around and finding with relief that Damion was approaching him fast.

"My Lord." His cousin greeted him, completely out of breath.

"Cousin" Tyrion answered short. "It's about Jaime."

"I heard and I must say…"

"I don't care what you have to say just listen." Tyrion cut him off with a gesture and continued: "I want you to send a message to the Mountain. He and his men are near Kevan's army, not with them." Tyrion had sent the Mountain and his bunch of cutthroats with Kevan but had ordered him to stay out of sight. There was no need to present Lord Stark with a man he despised so much like the baby killing, mother raping Clegane. But Tyrion had wanted the man near the place of events, just in case, and this was the case. "I want you to order him to take his men and search for Jaime. I don't care how they do it, and if they have to burn every single village in the Kingswood, they are supposed to bring Jaime back, in one piece. Understand?"

"Yes my Lord."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Tyrion spatting him, causing his bearded cousin to disappear quickly.

"That wasn't very nice, you could at least let him breath." Genna commented, looking down on him. "HE is after all your cousin."

"And Jaime is my brother. By the way I was just emphasised my point." Tyrion defended himself, before loosen up a bit and turning to the still giggling and hugging group afar from them. He was afraid he couldn't delay this any further, giving the fact that he wanted to go to his quarters now more than before. Sighing he looked up to his aunt, sure he couldn't avoid this any longer. "Shall we adjourn to them?"

"I must complete doing your and your wife's work. Go alone." She pointed in the direction of the group and Tyrion started walking, so not in the mood for that.

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Tyrion stepped in their chambers after Sansa and Lady, closing the mighty door behind him. The room had already been arranged for them, even if it still had the musty smell of a room not used for quite some time.

Tyrion had silently endured the overly joyful greetings of his cousins, even if it has been all concentrated on Sansa, and a bit on Jon, never on him, the Imp, but he was fine with that. He had genuinely greeted his aunt, listened to the false ass kissing of his cousins, to his relief there had been the little Janei, she had been very pleasant, maybe because of her young age. He had witness Cerenna and Myrielle ghosting over Jon while Joy had more fun with the wolves. But as soon as the opportunity had been given he snatched Sansa away, taking her to their quarters. On the way he had filled her in the recent news over Jaime and the Ironborn.

He now followed her into the living area, while Lady was rummaged her new realm, most likely spreading her fur graciously on the floor and furniture. Sansa walked towards the large bench at the window and filled two cups with wine, the servants apparently had already prepared in prospect of their return.

She sat down and hold one of the cups out to him, leaning back on the couch. He approached her with long steps and took the cup, seating himself next to her. Her face was converted in worries, and her mood had turned sour over the cause of the news about Jaime and Tyrion couldn't bear a grudge, her mood matched his.

"How do you feel?" She asked him after taking a sip of her cup, mustering him emphatically.

"I am not sure." Tyrion replied. He didn't know what to feel at all, first he was so sure Jaime would be alive, he was bristling with determination, anger about his brother disappearance boiled through him, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. Doubts clouded his mind, maybe his brother was dead, what then? Jaime was the only one of his siblings he could say he truly loved, he had been the only one showing affection towards him while they had been growing up. Jaime was the worrier the unyielding perfect swordsman, his brother what if he was dead? Tyrion had no idea what then.

He was looking in his cup, as if answers would be hidden in the wine he hadn't touched yet when Sansa's arm came around him. He turned to her, she had slid closer to him and one of her arms came around him while she laid her head on his, dragging him in an embrace. Tyrion let her, his feelings floating in him he leaned his head against her chest, closing his eyes.

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**Finally a Tyrion chapter, soon there will be a Sansa chapter (in three chapters, but hey...)**

**However, I am not sure if I can update next week, I will see, still busy (actually even this chapter was more than planned)**

**I hope to see more reviews from you guys and girls, please don't leave me high and dry**

**I will do all I can to make the next update happen**

**Something else, the one of you who know my blog know of my challenge, I will start to publish the +sized drabbles here in the next day so: "_Obacht_!"**

**Please review, I love you all**

**Once again, I officially search for a beta again Interest? PM me**


	20. Jaime V

**So, not a good chapter, I need a beta, please help**

**But today seems to be a much divided day**

**German elections - It's horrible**

**Yes, the FDP loses, that's good, AfD not in- good but the SPD is so weak**

**But I don't want Merkel to rule alone either**

**A very sour day for me**

**But back to Westeros**

**I own nothing**

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The tip of the sword scratched over the dirty skin of Jaime's throat, he looked up, not moving his head, and found a malicious grin on the other end of the sword. Despise cursing the stupid woman Jaime's eyes still wandered to her. Brienne of Tarth stood still in front of the other rider, her face unmoved but her eyes burned with something Jaime could only identify as anger, or maybe despair, these two always looked so similar to him.

For a brief moment their eyes met, Jaime starred in these astonishing blue eyes, asking himself why they were surrounded by so much ugliness. The woman just looked at him first, her burning eyes fixed on him and then Jaime saw it. It was a moment of total understanding between them. There was no word in any language of men Jaime knew to describe these moment but for Jaime everything what would follow revealed itself clearly in front of his eyes, what she wanted to do.

By the idea a wide grin spread over Jaime's face, he hadn't expected such from the blue warrior female, but his mind was already working. He nodded unsuspicious, his eyes wandering to his foe. He slowly slid his legs apart in the mud, to have a better stand, separating his wrists as much as he could, his palms averted without being seen by Stannis' men.

"You should give up, you know?" Jaime began and informed both men, his voice dripping with confidence, he spoke loud, provoking, so he could catch the attention of both men. "You should dismount your horses, leave your weapons and run as long as you two are able to."

"And what if not Kingslayer?" The man near the woman laughed, guiding his horse away from the female, fixing Jaime with his eyes, sword in hand.

"You wouldn't be the first men whose names I didn't learn before I killed them." Jaime told hem nonchalant, pretending to stand relaxed, carefree, but actually his body was tense, his skin tingled in anticipation.

"Shut up!" The man to his side with the sword on Jaime's neck spat, spitting in Jaime's face. Now his blood started to boil, this man was dead, and Jaime swore he wouldn't make it easy for him while his salvia dripped down his jaw. "What will you do, what will the all great Jaime Lannister do? Talking us to death?"

"No, not really." Both men were now near Jaime, the woman forgotten for them, good. "Let me explain your mistakes. I will speak slowly and won't use long words, don't worry."

"Enlighten us." The spitter removed his blade from Jaime's throat, caressing it as if it would be his cock as soon as it was in reach of his hand. "If I don't like it I cut your tongue out, sounds fair right?"

"As you wish." Jaime grinned, he was free now, no sword to interfere with his intentions. "First you made the mistake to think you two lowlifes could catch me, big mistake." Jaime paced around in a circle, distracting them with raised hands. "Second, only because I am bound, doesn't mean I can't kill you. And third, and maybe your greatest mistake." Jaime's grin grew even wider when he nodded behind the man to his left. "You underestimated _her_."

The moment after Jaime had nodded to her the eyes of Stannis' men turned, but only a short grimace of shock could flash over their faces. These both idiots had totally forgotten Brienne of Tarth, giving her time to prepare herself. They most likely ignored her because they would never consider a woman a threat. In a quick motion she hit the back of the horse near to her with her enormous, mailed hand, causing the horse to rear up in pain. Simultaneously Jaime ducked away from the man who had spitted at him, heading to the woman.

She draw Jaime's sword out of her backpack, letting his blade swirl in her hand and let it come down on his outstretched arms. It was a great leap of faith for Jaime to expose his precious hands to her, especially knowing how ungraceful she fought, but there wasn't really an alternative. In a fluid motion the blade cut through his bounds, he had widen the space between his hands as much as possible. Then his new companion flipped his sword to him. A warm feeling spread through Jaime when his hand closed again around the hilt of his old friend, making him smile viciously. It was time to kill.

The spitter was still bewildered when Jaime turned to him, letting Brienne deal with the other. He only heard the sound of steel drawn from behind him, expecting her to do the same he planned with the man before him.

The spitter tried to get a grip around his sword again, so he could strike Jaime down but was too nervous. When he finally managed his goal Jaime was already near him easily parrying off the sword coming down near his head.

He ducked and throw his back against the side of the horse, guiding his sword up for a hit against the hilt of the other's sword, hopefully costing him some fingers, while extending his other arm and closing his own fingers around a spare knife hanging at the saddle. Jaime ripped the small blade out of its shaft and rammed it in the spitter's thigh. The man howled in pain, yanking on the reins, forcing Jaime to get out of the way of the horse.

Jaime came up behind him and fastened his hand around the man's belt pulling him from his saddle on the ground. The spitter fell on his back, crashing on the muddy ground at Jaime's side. His sword was lost and the collision pressed all air out of his lunges. The horse behind Jaime had reared up before storming away.

Coursing loudly about another fleeing horse in the Kingswood Jaime approached the spitter. He had a malicious smile on his lips when he placed his food on the man's chest, his sword tangling over the man's face. His foe was pale as death, whimpering pathetic with his arms pleading.

"Your whore of mother should have told you not to spit, she should have known that." Jaime grinned in the terrified face of Stannis' soldier. He raised his sword and brought it down right in the man's face, ramming it through his mouth direct in his throat. Blood gurgled out of the mouth and then it was over. 'At least his mother had told him how to take a sword deep in his throat.' Jaime mused coldblooded, drawing his sword out of the corpse, causing more blood to rush over the face. A quick death, quicker than he had intended but the spitter hadn't been the only one.

Speaking of, Jaime scanned his surroundings, searching for the woman. Jaime found her battling the second man. He had somehow managed to stabilize his position in the saddle, fighting Brienne with his sword. Jaime had the initial though of coming to her aid, but it looked like she had everything under control. So he braced himself on his sword and watched.

Yes, she fought ungracefully, but good, parrying all attacks coming down on her from the rider. Jaime smiled by the scene, founding it amusing, not to mention the man fought like an amateur, hammering down without recognizable plan or training. This went on for a few moments and Jaime started to wonder, Brienne had at least four chances to end this game, but she never took one, she avoided them. Why? Was she afraid to kill the man?

But then it happened, using her incredible strength and height she quickly snapped out with her hand, pulling the man forcefully from his horse, holding him in front of her like a puppet. She knocked her head against his with great force, causing him to collapse in her grip. She held him with her fist at his chainmail armour, the man's feet in the air. But he didn't faint without letting his hand flip back after the hit, causing the stupid horse to run away as well.

Jaime cursed again while Brienne dropped the man unceremoniously on the ground.

"You scarred the horse away!" He commented frustrated, forgetting he had scared a horse away as well. But she didn't listen, dragging the unconscious man to the treeline.

She braced him against a tree, crouching before him and starred in his face. Curious what was up with her now Jaime took his sword over his shoulder and approached her. When he came to a stop near her he saw she had already started to slap the man in the face.

"I hope you didn't do that with me." He commented grinning, walking further up to her and coming to a stop at her side, towering above her. She shot him a glare, her eyes sparkling, but quickly turned her attention back to the man. Her sword laid beside her, Jaime could have easily killed her that moment, letting her rot in the Kingswood and going back to King's Landing alone. But he decided against it, for once he had a sort of debt to her and in addition he was curious what she had in mind.

"Wake up! Ahrg" She screamed in the soldier's face, sounding very frustrated. She grabbed the man's chin, pressing her fingers in his cheeks. Jaime smiled and mustered her, he couldn't detect a signs of the recent battle at her, she wasn't out of breath, nothing, like she hadn't fought at all. If somebody could call her stumbling around fighting.

"Maybe a kiss would wake him." Jaime suggested, earning another glare from her. But also another glimpse of her eyes, he started to like that. He wanted to make another comment when the man came round, groaning heavily.

He slowly opened his eyes, startling when he saw who was in front of him. Jaime smiled, thinking of commenting that but decided not to.

"Tell me, what happened with Renly." She growled at the terrified looking man, grabbing his chin again. She sounded more dangerous than Jaime thought possible from such a dull person, but he still rolled his eyes, finally learning what she was doing. "What happened?" She screamed in the face of her prisoner, exasperation coming to surface.

"He, he died." The man pressed out, backing up in the tree as much as possible, fear in his voice.

"How?" She growled very deep, not very feminism, drawing another smile from Jaime. He stood arms crossed above her, ignoring the man as much as possible, he had only eyes for her. The man at the tree looked up to him, seeking help, but only received a grin, Jaime had warned him.

"After, after the battle was lost he headed towards the meeting point near the coast." Stannis' man stuttered. Sudden relief spread through Jaime when he heard the battle had been won, but most likely Stark would take the credit and that soured his mood immediately.

"Continue" Her hand was now on his collar, pushing him up.

"He died, killed, nobody knows who…"

"How, he had his guard?" Brienne asked confused, Jaime on the other hand wasn't surprised about the failure of the 'Rainbowguard'.

"All except for Ser Loras have fallen or were captured during the battle. Whoever killed him had it easy. When Ser Loras found him, his throat was slit, he went mad. I mean Ser Loras. He killed the Guards who failed to protect Renly." The woman loosened her grip around the man's collar, falling back defeated, maybe shattered. Jaime came around her, looking at her face. There were silent tears running down her cheek. A small pang of pity seized Jaime, he had already figured out she had fancied Renly but that. He thought of counselling her but thought better and turned to the still frightened man

"Tell me" He started, taking Brienne's place, but grinned his best Lannister grin at the man. "How exactly is the outcome of the battle? And tell me of Stannis, his plans. Speak or I make you." The man cringed, but spoke in an unsteady voice:

"After Renly fled the lines collapsed, our left flank was overrun by Northerners and then they surrounded us. When Lord Tarly was captured everything was lost and we ran for our lives." The coward in front of Jaime tried to protect his face when Jaime grabbed his collar, scarred as hell. "After, after Renly's death … Lord Stannis was already at the camp, he took over the troops left, all except for the Tyrells and their most loyal men, they fled. But the Stormlords and many of the Reachlords left bend the knee to Stannis."

"Reachlords?"

"Lord Stark won't let them get away with a rebellion, everybody knows that, and Stannis offered a pardon for all who would follow him. But more important, Renly and the Tyrells led us in a military disaster, more than two thirds of the army are dead or captured while scouts indicate Lord Stark hasn't lost more than fifteen thousand men, we lost seventy-five thousand. This is worse than the battle at the Trident. Even given most men surrendered and are imprison now. Rumours say Lord Stark wants to send all of his prisoners to the Wall. All of us in freedom … we want to try to fight rather than going to the Wall."

"Ahh, stern Lord Stark." Jaime smiled in the man's face. He wasn't surprised and could easily imagine Lord Stark wanting to reinforce the Night's Watch while his sweet sister most likely wants all traitors dead. "One, no two question: What are Stannis' plans and was he the one killing Renly?" Jaime asked, hearing a loud gasp from behind him, of course the woman hadn't thought of that.

"I don't know." The man stuttered, Jaime leaned closer glaring deadly. It was enough. "He, he wants to march west and then south, attacking the Riverlands so he can surround the capitol."

"West and south? He should find a new map. Don't lie to me." Jaime stretching every letter

"He hasn't enough men, everybody knows that so he hopes for support from Oldtown. If he can conquer the Tyrells. They say if he take Highgarden Hightower would follow him. And yes, even if nobody would freely admit it he killed his brother, most likely. Please." The man whimpered while Jaime stood up, turning to the woman. She starred shocked and angry at the man on the ground.

"I am done. Kill him and we can go." Jaime said nonchalant, stepping aside.

"Please" Another whimper from his side but Jaime had only eyes for the shocked facial expression from his lady companion.

"What?" He asked annoyed. "We can't let him escape. He knows where we are now and he could guide more patrols to us. I already killed mine."

"I won't kill him." She stated defiant, pursing her lips like a child while the man behind Jaime whimpered.

"Fine." Jaime had no time for discussions. He took the hilt of his sword and rammed it unceremoniously in the whimpering face, beating the man unconscious, while an indignant gasp came from behind him.

He could have killed the man but he had no time to argue with her. He turned and shrugged at her pinched face before he walked pass her to search the backpack she hadn't on her back anymore, letting her starring at the unconscious man.

"Are you done?" He asked "Can we go."

"What?" His companion turned to him, a puzzled expression on her face. Jaime let out a light chuckle, she looked nearly cute being unaware of the situation, trying to find out what just happened. "Why would you…"

"Let me connect some strings for you." Jaime sheeted his sword and walked to the, discovered by him, backpack, starting to sort out all he could need. "The current situation presented itself like that: We are now hunted by all your former allies. You have a really good taste in choosing them, really." He grinned, his back to her. He had no idea what she did but he could swear she was approaching him. He ignored it, fastening his vambraces. "Means from now on we are in the same position."

"You are…"

"Do you really want to play: are you still my prisoner?" Jaime asked turning half around, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Because I am not very fond of the idea." For a moment she starred at him, Jaime could literally see her brain working and when she lowered her head he knew he had won. "Good, because I am afraid it would be much easier to make it through this forest together."

"I am supposed to…"

"Trust me?" He interrupted her again, observing the growing frustration in her face with great pleasure. "I thought so. We fought together, didn't we? We shed blood together, in a wide sense of the term. Somehow that connects us." Jaime explained nonchalant, placing his ass on the ground and looking up to the still bewildered woman. "We are sitting in the same boat, and if we don't work together, well..." Jaime played one of his best sighs, making a dramatic pause before grinning at her again. "Even if its dreads me to spend more time in you illustriously company, you are a passable fighter and with you my odds to reach King's Landing are much better." Jaime saw satisfied how her eyes widened when he had called her 'passable' she was more than passable but why should he tell all? "And your odds to come out of all this alive and with some sort of benefit are so much better with me. So? Are you coming with me?"

Jaime reached out his hand, still sitting on the ground. He waited patiently for her to take his hand. She hesitated, she looked direct into her eyes, maybe searching for any signs of a trick, to his benefit or not. He was in a vulnerable position, on the ground, she towering above him, maybe that hadn't be such a good idea. But then she extended her hand, dragging him to his feet.

Jaime came to a stand in front of her, his view on her throat, she was really tall. He stepped back and grinned confident.

"Very good." He took the backpack, he had removed all he didn't found useful. "Are you coming?"

"And where do you think we go?" She ask, standing there like a statue.

"King's Landing. Didn't I say that? What do you think?"

"We could go east, to the sea. I could still bring you to Tarth." She stated, looking east.

"I thought we already figured out that I am not your prisoner anymore." Jaime said low, taking a better stand, just in case. She just gave him one of this impassive looks of her. "We go to King's Landing, if you want I buy you a ship to reach your little island when we are there." Jaime offered, gazing at her. Finally she nodded. Jaime smiled wide, glad he hadn't to fight her. He extended his arm offering her to lead the way north. "Ladies first."

"Do you think me stupid?" she asked, practically begging for a retour from him, but he kept his mouth shut. "I won't turn my back to you, Kingslayer."

"Then not, Wench." Jaime snorted, starting to walk north. "By the way, you can call me Ser Jaime, or my Lord, if you prefer." Jaime mocked her over his shoulder

"What is with him?" Her voice rang from behind him. He turned around, seeing her still standing on her spot gesturing to the unconscious man at the tree.

"You don't want to kill him, so let him here, I am sure he will find his way back."

-##-

Again they walked in silence and again Jaime was glad for it. His head was busy enough to process through the new way the events have gone. Renly was dead.

The woman behind him seemed to mourn for her former King, her gait and the mood she radiated let Jaime even see guilt. Jaime could imagine what worked in her head. She most likely thought she could have stopped the assassins. Useless pondering about what could have been.

But for Jaime the death of Renly and the implications of it weren't welcome at all too. With Renly dead Stannis turned to be the main threat. Now the experience commander commanded the rest of Renly's army, even if they were dwindled he still could be a danger. Jaime had no idea what else happened, if Stannis somehow had developed a way to still win.

This hadn't been the plan, Renly was supposed to die and his men to bend the knee, not defect to Stannis.

But what bothered him even more was the overwhelming victory for Stark the interrogated man had described. In the perfect outcome Jaime would have been the hero, killing Renly and ending his rebellion He would have rode into King's Landing right into Cersei's arm, enjoying her gratitude. But now Stark had been the one defeating Renly's army, and he: Jaime Lannister was wandering through the Kingswood clothed in dirty rags, accompanied by a taciturn woman, able to pass as a half giant, not very heroic.

He had to get out of this stinking forest and back to the capitol, back in a white armour, back doing his duty, being with Cersei.

When the sun went behind the trees and darkness lowered itself over the land, Jaime and his companion started to search for a shelter for the night. He had hope for a farmhouse or at least a logging camp. But nothing, until Brienne found a cave, not good, but better than sleeping under the sky.

"Homely." Jaime commented dryly inspecting the dark, moist cave. Nothing special. "It looks like no animals, good, otherwise you would have to scar them away."

"Shut up." A snort came from her when she placed her cloak on the ground. "You go collecting firewood, I will…"

"It's too late." Jaime informed her, scanning the area. "If you haven't notice the sun is already down. It's too dangerous. I am afraid we have to suffer a night without a fire, even if I am able to make one.

"And what are you propose?" She asked dryly, glaring at his grin.

"We sleep. I for one am tired. Eating and drinking can wait until tomorrow." Jaime sat down beside her, causing her to frown and standing up. She went to the other side of the cave, eying him suspiciously. "You are aware that our body heat could be the only one keeping us warm tonight, do you?"

"Don't even think of it." She murmured, making him smile at her blush.

"Come on, I bet you dream of spooning me since you tied me to the tree." Jaime laughed, smiling wide. Her blush and defensive manner was amusing for him, highly entertaining even, but sadly his words were the truth. They had no time to make a fire, and the nights grew cold lately. "Do you think I found it desirable to lie beside you? But sadly we have no other chance."

"Take your cloak." She said, wrapping up in her own cloak, but her eyes were on him. Jaime sighed and rolled his eyes, lying down on the floor.

* * *

**You see, bad day, bad chapter**

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**If anyone will be my beta, please...**


	21. Ned IV

**Still searching a beta**

**More Notes at the end**

**I own nothing**

* * *

With growing wary Ned watched Queen Cersei drowning her fourth cup of wine since their meeting begun. The disappearance of her twin brother laid heavy on her, Ned could understand how she felt, the news of Benjen's disappearance still laid heavy on him too, but still.

Since Ned had returned to the capitol he watched her with sorrow in her eyes, drowning herself in wine. She tried to hide her feeling but Ned was able to look through her façade, a skill he had never wished for but his own life had burden him with the ability to recognise her feelings. He had lost so many of his own beloved that he could always see the same sorrow in others.

Nevertheless, he couldn't avoid to admire Cersei Lannister for how she dealt with the situation. Instead of retreating to a lonely place, weeping in silence over her brother she kept going. She hadn't slowed down but worked ceaseless, filling her place at the court and did what had to be done.

She still believed her brother would be alive, alive and on his way back. A defiance Ned couldn't really agree with, seven days had gone into the land and not a single word had come from Ser Jaime. To be truthful Ned believed him dead, slain in the depths of the Kingswood or being one of the many nameless corpses buried beside the battlefield by some careless man who hadn't recognised him.

The battle of the Kingswood had been costly demanding many sacrifices. Ned himself had barely escaped an axe. The solider wielding the heavy weapon had luckily been very inexperienced and only hit his shield, but Ned's left arm was still aching and only of use rudimentary.

Yet, the battle was called a great victory. A victory for Joffrey, one matching Robert's victory at the Trident. Of course many objected it would have been Ned's victory, he was after all the Regent of the realm. But Ned didn't care very much, the young Prince could have the victory, Ned had just done his duty protecting the realm. He was satisfied with fulfilling his duty and glad the threat Renly had posed was banished without as much loses of life as estimated.

Renly had made too many crucial mistakes, not alone thinking his knights would be a match to the experience soldiers Ned had mustered. Renly had given away his advantage in numbers and horses and then he had fled the battlefield leaving his men alone.

Ned remembered how he had witnessed Renly abandoning the men who had been ready to fight and die for him, crushing their spirit more effectively than the King's soldiers would have ever been capable of. Shortly after the Renly's banner fled the field the Greatjon had been able to crush through the enemy's left flank and instead of pursuing the fleeing enemies he had turned left and attacked the main part of Renly's army from their side.

The same had happened on the other side of the field. Weakened by the foray of Ser Brynden and his men, which had overran a part of Renly's line and the impact of Renly running away with the Tyrells, the soldiers had surrendered or run away.

Surrounded at three sides the victory had been near, so close so soon that Ned hadn't been able to consider it until he had ridden on a small hill at the side, to get a better view. Renly's men had been squeezed together by his force from three sides, together with the soldiers at their end, still unaware of the situation in front of them, still marching forward, they had become a tight ball of men, most of them unable to raise their own swords or shields.

It had looked like the victory would already been there when, in a last attempt, a group of soldiers, under a banner with a huntsman, tried to boke through the centre of Ned's lines. Ned had known Randyll Tarly to be an unyielding worrier but such a brave move had been more than expected. But brave or not, Tarly hadn't been able to turn the tide in his favour. He had been outnumbered, surrounded by enemies. Ned had watched how the man had been pulled from his horse, captured by Westermen.

With their best soldier and last commander captured, their King fleeing and surrounded by enemies the Lords, knights and soldiers of the Stormlands and the Reach had finally seen how futile their fight had been and had surrendered or fled.

After the dust had settled and the enemies disarmed Ned had shown the prince the battleground. Accompanied by the Kingsguard he had made the boy comprehend what his crown had cost. Ned had even made him dismount his horse and walked with him through the mud and blood on the ground, letting him smell the mixture of death, sweet and excrements. Ned had exposed him to the wounded men, dying on the ground, and the one nobody had been able to help anymore.

Ned had hoped the horror and brutality would make him understand the sacrifice the men, he would have to rule, had made in his name, made him understand that he owed them for his crown.

Ned wasn't sure if the sight or his words had the impact he had wished for. He feared they hadn't. The prince had inherited Robert's worst traits, his taken-for-grantedness attitude together with an arrogance, Ned could only set to his Lannister side. It would be hard to shape the boy as much as needed so he would make a decent King someday.

Ned had left him on the battlefield when the first counting had arrived together with the numbers of the casualties. His uncle-in-law had informed him personally of Ser Jaime's disappearance in the woods. Ned had immediately sent searching parties to find him, but only as much as he had been able to spare.

But Ser Jaime was only one man against all the sacrifices: at the end, eighteen thousand men were dead, four thousand too heavy wounded to fight again or make a living at all. The greatest casualties came from the Riverlands, they had taken a hard strike at the right flank as well as later when Tarly tried to break free.

But his casualties were nothing compared to Renly's side: Ned's men had counted over thirty thousand dead or heavily wounded men. Together with thirty-six thousand captured enemies, including some of the greatest Lords of Stormlands and Reach, not to mention Robb's recent triumph that could change the war fundamentally.

Thinking about Robb, his mind finally turned back to the present and to the Queen across the table pouring herself more wine again. They were in the Small Council chamber, sitting at opposite sides of the large, with letters and reports crowded table.

This was their first meetings since he had come back from the war two days ago. His way back had been much longer than expected, having wounded and prisoners to transport with the army. For Ned it had felt like a slow stretching eternity before he was back in King's Landing. He had needed rest and at least a bit time with Arya. Ned had the feeling he had neglected her over the cause of the last weeks, but his fatherly wish had been destroyed by debriefings and even more duties. But he had sworn to himself he would spend some time with his youngest daughter as soon as this meeting was over.

If it was ever over, he had spent the last hours reading most of the letters the Queen had left unanswered during his absence. Many had worried him, but he knew there were more urgent matters to discuss. He leaned back in his chair, placing his left arm at his side, determine not to move it too much and sighed audible, signalling Queen Cersei he was ready.

"The prisoners?" he asked resigning as soon as her attention was with him, her green eyes fixing him. Ned looked into them, he saw the worries, how much he wanted to say something but like it had been in the matter with the prince and the battle he didn't know how.

"Yes, the prisoners Lord Stark." The Queen took another sip of her cup and observed him. "We have so many of them that I for my part have no idea what to do with them. Pycelle informed me we have already problems with feeding our own men. What do you think we are supposed to do with forty thousand more mouths to fill?"

"Thirty-six." Ned corrected her low, reaching for one of the reports about the prisoners, who spend their time in provisional wooden cages in front of the walls. "Mainly commoners but also highborn Lords."

"Traitors, you mean?" The Queen fixed him with again, a cattish, cold smile curling in the corner of her mouth and continued: "Haven't they rebelled against their rightful King and shouldn't they pay the price for their broken vows? What is the penalty for breaking the oath of fealty in the North Lord Stark?"

"Dead..."

"Good, then we agree. We must send a clear signal to the realm that we won't tolerate such behaviour." She interrupted him before she leaned back, taking a triumphant sip of her up. Ned had to admit that she was right, somehow, how could he argue with against the law?

"Your Grace" He tried, his arm aching "I agree with you but do we really want to spill so much blood? Considering most of them surrendered the honourable thing to do perhaps would be to be merciful."

"Merciful?" She spat out, but a moment later her expression changed, became calmer. Ned took it as a good sign and continued:

"We are not in the times of the Mad King or even Maegor's. They fought, they surrendered if we…"

"Tarly, Ashfort, Beesbury, Merryweather, Rowan, Shermer, Redwyne, Fell, Morrigen, Wensington…" She began to enumerate all noble Houses with at least one prisoner, mostly a son or the Lord himself in their captivity. Ned listened to her nonchalant voice, silenced by her impressive aura of self-confidence and pride. She went on for some time until she suddenly stopped and laid down the list she had read off. "So many traitors, some out of the oldest noble Houses and you want pardon them all together?" Her words stung deep in Ned's mind like an accusation. She made him feel guilty for wanting them to pardon because out of the immense number of death following a death sentence. His honour said that they deserved what would come to them, they weren't innocent, they had chosen to rebel.

Ned hadn't wasted much thought about what to do with all the prisoners until now, especially the noble or knightly one. He was aware of the rumours that he was about to send all of them to the Wall, some even said he intended to castrate them before. All of this was of course rediciulous. Especially given that it wasn't fair to send the commoners to the Wall, they had just done what they had to, following their liege Lord. The Lords and knights on the other hand were a completely other business. And to crown it all Lord Varys had to call attention on a little but maybe important aspect of the prisoners' treatment this morning.

"Your Grace" Ned started cautious, observing his counterpart carefully for any signs of discontent, but she simply smiled calm at him with cold eyes. "Lord Varys called attention to an aspect we perhaps have to consider."

"What did the spider say?" The Queen asked him, her gaze and her aura once again rose very confusing feelings in Ned.

"Stannis" One word and he had her genuinely attention, a little smile formed in the corner of his mouth. "According to our scouts more than twenty thousand of Renly's men defected to him instead of surrendering. House Tyrell has lost most of its supporters, they are blamed for the defeat. The only good news are, that all the Houses which Lords we have in custody don't dare to act."

"And?" She asked but Ned somehow had the feeling she already knew what he had to say.

"Lord Varys proposed we allow our prisoners to choose between bending the knee or judgment. So we could gain their support and with the Tyrell children in our custody as well…"

"Yes, your son's achievement, very impressive." The Queen interrupted him, smiling behind her raised cup. "Bending the knee? How much do you think their word is worth? They bent the knee to Robert after the end of the Targaryens and here we are again, fighting against each other. Does the eunuch think if we show forgiveness other wouldn't be reluctant to defect to us?"

"Maybe…" Ned cringed under her gaze, going out of arguments, she had figured out Lord Varys' proposal in no time. He tried to find a solution, something he could represent.

"Maybe we can find a middle ground." Cersei Lannister placed her cup on table suddenly a warm smile on her lips. "We send to the Wall who participated most, like, let's say Tarly and his knights and some other the rest we let a choice. How does this sound?"

Ned bowed his head in agreement, glad the Queen once again found a way out of their misery, proving again how important her part was for him to rule the realm. Or had she planned this outcome all along?

The next hour they spent deciding who they would send to the Wall immediately and who would get a choice. In the end Randyll Tarly, the Lords Redwyne and Buckler as well as over one hundred knights would be send to the Wall, the other Lords and knights would bend the knee or stand trial. The commoners on the other hand would be remain imprison until their Lords had made their decision and determined their shared faith.

Done with this point they could move on to the next point in order, the war, and more importantly Stannis.

"All we know yet is that he moves southwest towards Highgarden. He sent ravens to all Houses of the Reach claiming Highgarden in the name of House Florent. He wants to unite the Reach under the Florents and come back to us." Ned summarized the events of the last day, seeing how the Queen's face lit up in amusement.

"If he thinks he could win the Reach and come back I trust your abilities to stop him Lord Stark." Her praise caused Ned to smile and he averted his eye, fearing to blush.

"Maybe, but I would feel much better if we don't let it get to that point in the first place."

"You have something in mind?"

"We have the Tyrell children." Ned looked up to her, siting across him with all grace possible. "If they would bend the knee, maybe together with a marriage to secure the South, we could take away the ground Stannis tries to stand on. Yes, we won a battle but I am afraid if Stannis manage to win Oldtown for his cause he could build up his forces faster than we."

"So you suggest what? We are very short of marriageable children, if I have to remember you." The Queen gave to consider, fixing him again her eyes turned to fire. "By the way, is this one of Lord Varys' ideas again?"

"Actually one of Lord Arryn's. It worked during that last war." Ned was once again prisoner of her gaze, feeling confused again while he put to use what his foster father had taught him. "I thought perhaps prince Tommen could…"

"Marry Renly's widow?" Enraged by the sudden realisation of his plan Cersei Lannister rose up, banging her fists on the table, her fiery gaze fell on him. Ned was taken aback from her, again, swallowing hard. He was amazed how much fire she had in her, his eyes were drawn to her, her body looking like in flames by her red dress. Her angry voice sounding so exciting to him. "The girl is ten years older than him, don't you think I don't know that? My son is seven. I won't allow you to marry him off. And don't you think you could marry my daughter to one of them." She pointed her finger in his face, her lips pressed tight.

"Then maybe…" Ned searched for words, he needed something to calm her when an idea sprung in his head. He could understand her anger, knowing how it was to give up a child and she was right both her younger children were too young. "Maybe my son could… marry Lady Tyrell."

"Mhm" She seemed to consider his suggestion, sinking back in her chair she took her wine again and let Ned waiting anxious on her thoughts. "A possibility. And they would leave for Winterfell wouldn't they?"

"Yes, of course." Ned had no idea what this questions meant, he was confused. But his answer seemed to satisfy her, a smile creped on her now calm expressions.

"Then I suppose we should make the offer. When will your son arrive?" Ned sighed audible, her tantrum was over and again a solution found.

"Tomorrow, we should let matters rest until then." Ned replied, taking a letter from the big pile to his right. The crest of House Lannister pressed in the wax. He sought to change the topic, hoping for good news.

With the matter resting for the day Ned wanted to go to the next topic as quick as possible. He could have mused if it he had made the right decision to marry Robb to a Tyrell or better offer a marriage. But the time demanded an alliance and Robb was sixteen as old as the Tyrell-girl, maybe they would be fitting. Nevertheless all pondering was useless until he had spoken with Robb and of course with Lord Tyrell. Not to mention that he had to send a letter to Cat, asking her as well. But for him it seemed to be the right decision and if it would prevent or shorten the war it was necessary and no discussion possible. Even if it pained him to decide over the faith of his son so reckless at this table.

"From your brother your Grace" Ned scanned the text he hadn't read earlier, seeing that the letter was two days old, hoping to distract his thoughts. The Queen didn't seem to be interested in the content, playing bored with her cup. "He sent Ser Gregor to search for your brother?" Ned questioned her worried. Clegane was a monster without honour, he had no idea what he would do in the Kingswood, it made him nervous. But this worries were forgotten when he read the second part of the letter. "Balon Greyjoy declared himself King and prepare to attack the Reach?" Ned asked unbelieving, looking up to the Queen, why hadn't anybody told him?

Queen Cersei shrugged, looking at him as if he asked something obvious. Ned's mouth stood open, shocked how less she seemed to care for the matter.

"Until now the Tyrells were our enemies." She finally explained to him, most likely tired by his starring. "Why shouldn't they kill each other and we simply sweep up the rest?"

"But..." Ned started, blinking rapidly to process her words, her cold calculation. Why had he expect differ from a Lannister? "We can't have allow this anymore" He finally stuttered, continuingly starring at Queen Cersei's impassive form, leaning back in her chair, smiling sweet at him with calculating eyes.

"I am afraid so" She sighed, playing with her cup again.

"Do you think your brother would be able to take care of the Iron Island?" Ned asked carefully, his mind raced. The implications of the events were huge. First, he still had Balon Greyjoy's son, Theon, the boy was supposed to secure his father's loyalty, but now. Ned asked himself if he could draw the consequences, now that his father had become a traitor declaring himself King.

"My brother." The snort of the Queen drew Ned back, not mishearing the repulsion in her voice. Ned knew full well of the feelings the Queen held for her brother, it had become obvious during his time with her, even if he wasn't sure why.

"It would be a relief for us if he would be able to take the Islands and end Balon Greyjoy's rule, I would prefer not to split the troops around King's Landing"

"And you shouldn't." The Queen declared. "Send an order to my brother and I am sure he will be happy to comply. I am sure he will be happy to finally do his part, it's time he does." If it was sarcasm or not, Ned overlooked it and turned back to the pile of letters spotting one with the black wax of the Night's Watch.

While the Queen refilled her cup again Ned broke the wax and started reading, his stomach dropped cold, studying the words.

"You look pale my Lord." The Queen commented. "Wine?"

"No thank you your Grace." Ned looked up, there was no time for wine now. "The Night's Watch. Lord Commander Mormont is dead, his men claim he was killed by wights." Ned sighed heavy and add, predicting the reaction he had caused: "They also fear a Wildling attack."

"Lucky that they soon get new recruits." Cersei Lannister laughed, taking a sip of wine while Ned starred at the letter with concern.

-##-

Ned climbed up the stairs of the tower of the Hand, his head throbbing. The meeting with the Queen had gone on for hours, after he had read the news from the Wall. She had laughed about his fear of the White Walkers, calling him superstitious. But he was determine to have an eye on the North, he had already sent a note to Winterfell. He was glad Jon wasn't at the Wall now. But then he wasn't save either, with Lord Tyrion ordered to fight Balon Greyjoy. Ned was still unbelieving about the man, causing his own son's suffering. Ned had already ordered Theon's arrest, he hadn't wanted this, but honour and duty demanded it.

The rest of the meeting had been about Dorne and the question how to deal with them. Dorne hadn't sent troops to aid the King like Ned had ordered. In their defence their men would have had to march through Renly's territory, nut this was no excuse. The Queen and Ned hadn't found an answer to the question how to deal with them. They had adjourned this question and turned to their daily business.

Ned was weary of all this, the ruling, but his honour commanded him, and he started to enjoy the Queen's company more and more every time. He had even missed her during his time at war, not as much as he missed Cat but still. He had no idea why, every time they were together he had this confusing feelings, not to mention her ability to make him feel so small.

Ned passed another floor and stopped when he found Arya sitting before him on the stairs, looking up to him.

"You said you would spend time with me." She reminded him stern, her expression hard and demanding. Ned was tired, his head hurt but she was right he had neglected her for too long. So he took a seat beside her on the stairs, leaning back with a loud sigh and smiled at his youngest daughter.

"You are right." Ned bowed his head down to her, looking her up and down. She wore a simply brown waistcoat and trousers again, no gown. A smile crossed Ned's face. How unladylike she was. Sansa would never let anyone see her in something else than a dress while Arya was the opposite. He inspected her face and found a small bruise down her jaw. Ned stretched out his hand and cupped her chin, a questioning gaze in his eyes.

"How are your lessons going?" He asked suspicious, remembering what kind of exercise caused such bruises.

"I wasn't fast enough." She explained with a small grin and added: "At first"

"Ahh" Ned nodded with wide eyes. First he had found it not so beneficial for his daughter to learn to fight with this small sword Jon had given her. But somehow Lyanna had come in his mind, remembering his sister and how similar Arya was to her in build and appearance he had found a sword master for her. He had planned it as a onetime thing but seeing her training with him had brought back more memories off his sister and Ned had decided to let her have her fighting, not to mention how much fun she seemed to have with it. "You should be more careful."

"Why?" She asked him sincerely stunned. Ned barked a laugh and turned his body more to her.

"Because your mother wouldn't approve of you being all bruised up. And she will hear of it, at the latest when you be at Joffrey's side during the victory feast for the battle." Ned explained her, the feast the Queen wanted to celebrate poking in his mind again, he had nearly been successful by forgetting it. "Ravens will bring the news of a bruised soon to be Queen to Winterfell and I will be the one to blame."

"Why does he get a celebration? The guards say he had just hid behind the lines." Arya asked him, knitting her brows.

"Because he is the future King and it had been his battle."

"As if," Arya snorted, crossing her arms. "He couldn't fight an armed rabbit." Arya uttered contemptuous, puffing angry before her voice turned and she looked at him with hard eyes. "Do I really have to be with him at this stupid feast?"

"You will marry him." Ned reminded her, not feeling so well by the thought. Robert had wanted to join their Houses and in his honour Ned continued the engagement. But he knew how Arya thought of Joffrey, even worse than he thought of the Prince and it pained him.

"I don't want to marry Wormy, he is arrogant and cruel and a coward!" She spat out, fisting her hands.

"Wormy?" Ned asked amused, trying to hide a little chuckle. Arya's eyes widened, Ned had caught her babbling out her nickname, but her unyielding look didn't seize. Ned slid to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I know, it's not what you want. But it's your duty." The sudden realisation came to Ned that he had given the same speech to Sansa more than two years ago. "I can …, wait, I won't put an end to the engagement. We can't simply escape our duty, no matter how much we want to. Your sister married, Robb will perhaps marry soon too, and you have to marry prince Joffrey." Arya looked like a beaten dog, only a small surprised because of his announcement concerning Robb had come and gone fast. Ned took a heavy breath and continued encouraging: "See it so, he won't be King until he is sixteen, and you won't marry him until then. These are three years I have time to smooth out the flaws Robert bequeathed."

Arya didn't look persuaded, rather devastated, at least her eyes revealed this. Ned knew this look, her eyes might burn with fire but a small place in them showed her real feelings. What could he do? Duty and honour.

* * *

**Today we had Westeros politics and I think I am in need to explain a bit:**

**The numbers varied because a soldier doesn't know all**

**The mad dog (Joffrey) hasn't yet a crown on his head so he is still limited in his actions and how depending he is on Cersei, he is eleven**

**The Cersei:**

**She is different yes, maybe there will be a chapter of her soon, don't forget, the last three years she had to adept to a Westeros without Tywin having her back, she had to change her strategy, her way of dealing with problems**

**I now I neglect most of the Starks but don't worry there will be at least a Arya chapter soon, but the plot thickened so much around King's Landing and Jaime and Casterly Rock, while the North is pretty quiet, for the moment**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter and review**

**And again, if you are a beta or know a beta willing to help me, please PM me**


	22. Sansa

**I own nothing**

* * *

Sansa awakened slowly, smelling Tyrion's hair under her chin. She leisurely opened her eyes and became aware of her surroundings. With a little smile Sansa decided she would stay how she was for a while.

Tyrion lied curled up by her, Sansa's arms and body clinging to his from behind, a warm red blanked wrapped around them. Gently Sansa drew her husband closer to herself, making sure not to wake him. It had been a long evening until they had finally fallen asleep yesterday. Tyrion had been the first, lying on his side and Sansa had swung her arms around him, holding him during the night.

Lady lied curled up at the feet of the bed, her head resting on her pawns, her yellow eyes observed the two. Sansa turned her head slightly, her cheek scratching Tyrion's messed hair she smiled to her wolf. She hadn't had a dream about her during the night, they appeared often but not always. Sansa walking in Lady's skin, like she would be the wolf, smelling, hearing, seeing and feeling what Lady felt.

First Sansa had thought it would have only been a simple dream but after it happened more often she wasn't so sure anymore. And then Trion had asked her about her barking. Sansa had blushed like a maid by his question but had told him it would be nothing. Nevertheless she knew her husband was way too curious for his own good, like his tongue was too lose, he wouldn't be satisfied so easily. But Sansa still didn't tell him anything she experienced in her dreams, she wasn't sure what was going on with her. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, but this dreams were confusing and she hated being confused, not in control.

She would tell him, when she was fully in control again, over everything, when she was sure of herself. But there weren't just the dreams, it was like Lady would understand all her wishes without a word, her wolf was turning to a third arm or something. Lady always knew Sansa's intentions and followed along without a single word from Sansa but was also independent at the same time, doing things on her own accord. A good thing, and funny for Sansa, observing her wolf teasing Tyrion and the other way around.

Yes, both sometimes behaved like children, even if Tyrion thought himself too clever to be caught by her, but Sansa had seen all of it. She liked it somehow.

Sansa had also discovered more strange effects since Lady had come in her life. When she talked with someone for example she was more aware about the feelings and emotions of her counterpart than before, as if she could feel them, or even guide them in a rudimentary way. She had always a talent to make other do her biddings with sweet words and courtesies. But now she could do more, or so she had the feeling.

Confusing

A movement under the blanked brought her attention back to her husband, lying under her. Tyrion kicked his legs fitful, like if he would have a nightmare. Wishing to calm him Sansa tightened her embrace, burying her face in his hair she snuggled closer to him, hoping the warmth of her body, her presence would be enough and yes, he calmed down in his sleep.

Sansa was worried about him, since they had arrived six days ago he wasn't well. He had always nightmares, not very often but on a regular basis, maybe two times a month. But at the moment they occurred more often, Sansa suspected it was because of his worries for his brother. Sansa knew exactly what he felt, this uncertainty she had felt herself for her father and brother. Tyrion had been there for her during her days and in his time she had to be there for him. Sadly she hadn't been able do much, like he hadn't been able to do anything.

Their roles had been reversed and she had been the one helpless to make him better, and she hated it. But Tyrion was different in some ways, he didn't show his sorrow, his fear, he buried himself in work or books to distract him most of the time and only in the evening, when they were abed in the privacy of their chambers he allowed himself to worry, only allowing Sansa to see it.

Sansa had been there for him them, helping him as good as she could and it had become better. By now Tyrion was almost utterly convinced that Jaime was still alive. He had said the best they could do was to live a normal life and they did, falling back in their old routine. But still, sometimes Tyrion's doubts caused nightmares. He hadn't had so many nightmares since the dawn of their marriage, when Sansa had lied in the bed, wrapped up in her own blanked, shielding herself unnecessarily she had witnessed his nightmares, but they had nearly vanished completely over the blossoming of their love.

A loud yawn under her then signalled Sansa that Tyrion had awaken. Hearing him moving his tongue loudly she smiled and snuggled even closer, sneaking her head over his cheek and kissed him.

"Morning."

"Morning" Tyrion replied sleepy, turning around in her embrace to face her. To Sansa's dissatisfaction he caused their bodies to drift apart in his motion, robbing her from him. He did that on purpose, so his head could be on one level with hers. Sansa couldn't be mad for long, because she was looking in his mismatched eyes, the eyes she loved so much.

"Did you had a nightmare?" Sansa asked gently, caressing his cheek with her fingers. He looked sleepy, with black rings under his eyes and pale skin.

"Nothing, it was nothing." He assured her with a caress of hand over her cheek, but on her doubtful look he added cheeky: "Don't worry, I dreamed of my sister."

"Very funny" Sansa answered sarcastically and pointed her finger on his forehead pushing him away.

"Hey" He chuckled, sliding away from her on the silken sheets by an additional playful push of her feet. Sansa had no interest for rude jokes this morning. Carried by the motion he nearly slipped from the bed if Sansa hadn't caught him in the last moment. He clung on her arm and pushed himself back on the mattress, his eyes filled with sudden but short living panic.

Sansa couldn't avoid a giggle by the sight of him clinging at her like a child. Shortly after he was back on the bed she couldn't avoid t turn on her back, laughing wild.

"Not funny" Tyrion snarled, Sansa listened how he moved on to her side but couldn't stop looking on the painted celling laughing incessant. "This happens way too often lately."

"Maybe you get old and lose your grace" Sansa suggested grinning, giggling wildly, turning back on her side to find him sliding up to her on his belly. "I am married to an old man." Again Sansa pointed at him not stopping to giggle.

"Yes, the thousand year old Imp." Tyrion commented dryly, banishing her laugh for a moment she nudged him in the shoulder.

"Don't say that _word_" Sansa scolded him seriously, taking note of him theatrically rubbing his shoulder where she had hit him with a hurt expression. She hated that word, 'Imp', it sounded like a monster. Sansa had already forbid to call her husband in such manner at Casterly Rock. All who wanted to be in her good favour knew, saying Imp would destroy all their efforts.

There were even a rumour she would have had a servant thrown from one of the cliffs for making the mistake of calling Tyrion Imp. Of course she hadn't had, and most inhabitants of the Rock didn't believe the rumour anyway, but it bothered Sansa.

To be true, she had some extreme reactions sometimes, especially when somebody dared to call her husband Imp, but she would never kill someone for it. The most extreme reactions she had when Tyrion called himself Imp, it was like he would acknowledge the view of the outside on him and Sansa didn't agree with that. He was Tyrion, her husband, the kind, gentle man she had come to love, the one with the big mouth and the rude jests, habit she constantly tried to break, not a monster.

"That was not very ladylike Sansa." He mewled, still rubbing his side. She could only give him a disbelieving look. "What are you doing at night to get so strong?"

"Don't be such whiny, you shouldn't have said the word." Sansa made clear, trying to withhold a chuckle over his purposely overacting. "Shall I kiss your boo-boo?"

"Yes please" He childishly pursed his lips, even if Sansa could already see the grin crawling on his face. He held out his shoulder and Sansa gave it a light kiss, using the opportunity to push him on his back, straddling him.

"I think you know what my arm is doing to get so strong." Sansa remarked with a mischievous smile lowering her body on his, she already felt his hardness under her. "But I think for now we do something else." Sansa whispered seductively in his ear, making sure her breath hit him right.

She sat up again, finding him with a knowing smirk. Sansa began to trace her hands over his body, letting them wander through his chest hair and up to his neck. Enjoying the caressing he gave her hips with his skilled fingers she let out a moan and dived down to kiss him passionately.

-##-

It was way pass sunrise when they finally finished, nearly exhausted enough go back to sleep. Sansa would have liked that, staying in bed for the day. They hadn't had a day for themselves for more than a year.

Before they had travelled to King's Landing they had taken at least one day a month with spending in bed, eating, drinking, talking, playing and more, just the two of them. It had always been relaxing, they had been alone, everything was completely silent, only the wind blowing around the Rock had been to hear.

They never had such privacy during their travel, there had always been someone around or just a little door away, not to mention the constant bumping of the road. Same was at the capitol or Winterfell, they had never had a day for themselves. Sansa had added it up lately, they had spent approximately six and a half month on the road. Seven weeks to King's Landing on the Goldroad, eight weeks to Winterfell on the Kingsroad and eleven weeks back from Winterfell to Casterly Rock, first on the Kingsroad and then through the, only rarely frequented and bad, roads through the Riverlands and over the Westermountains. They had stayed few weeks in King's Landing and six months in Winterfell, so more than a year they hadn't had a day for themselves.

But sadly they still hadn't caught up with all the work they had left in the West. Of course Genna and Kevan had done much, as had they done themselves, using ravens. But there were some things only Tyrion or herself could handle, due to their status. And the war had made it even more complicated.

Not to mention that today would be the first day to hold court again, so they had to get up, if they wanted or not.

Pushing Lady aside, the Direwolf had decided it would be nice lying on both their legs to snuggle, Sansa left the bed and got her morning robe, glancing over to Tyrion who did the same.

Sansa called for the servants and her handmaiden to pour her a quick bath and to prepare a breakfast for them.

Sansa's time in the bath was limited, Tyrion and she had already wasted too much time. After she left the water her handmaiden, four in numbers, quickly braided her hair and dressed her. For the day Sansa had decided for a long violet dress with long sleeves and gold ornaments. The dress was made out of a special material, that would turn deep red in the evening sun, sparkling like rubies. She had no idea how it worked but she liked the effect.

After she was ready she went into the living area where Tyrion already waited for her at the table. As always he climbed out of his chair the moment she was about to sit down, making it overcomplicated because he had to climb back in. An unnecessary gesture, Sansa thanked him for with a smile either way.

Lady found a place at Sansa's feet, her body hidden under the table, covered by the long tablecloth, Sansa could feel her tail at her legs, smiling lightly. Lady always had her head on Tyrion's side of the small table, because he would feed her with all kinds of treats, while Sansa had discovered it would be better for her companion not to eat everything what was on the table, sadly neither Lady nor Tyrion understood that.

The breakfast contained out of fresh, still steaming, bread, boiled eggs, fresh fish and meat together with fruits and porridge. Sansa took her cup with lemon juice mixed with water and honey and took a slide of the bread, vigilantly eyeing Tyrion eating his eggs with fish, a gross combination.

"Do you have to eat that?" Sansa asked nauseated, observing him biting the head off the little fish, she turned to her own meal before she lost her appetite.

"You should try it." Tyrion suggested, holding the plate to her. "It's not a sausage." He said entertained but as soon as Sansa sneered he put the plate away. But still, Tyrion found it hilarious, chuckling in his chair.

"Stop teasing" Sansa hushed, leaning a bit forward, and when he did the same, aiming for her lips she drew away. "Not as long your breath smells like fish." Sansa said finally, flopping back on her chair. He never ceased eating this gross fish, with head and all, she hated it, his breath smelled and she knew he only did it to tease her, so she teased back.

"Excited for the day?" He asked nonchalant, changing the topic with a smile after processing his not kiss.

"Why should I?" Sansa asked bewildered for a moment, but then it hit her. A little grin crept on her face: "You mean because of Jon?"

"Having your big brother on hand as your personal henchman, must be exciting." Tyrion chuckled, taking one of the fishes again.

"He helps me one day, to learn. Nothing more, I don't intend to exploit him." Sansa defended herself against his unspoken accusation, taking in a large mass of air.

Jon had to learn how things worked at the Rock, because of that he wandered through all departments of the castle. Learning by doing and helping. The Rock was different from Winterfell in so many ways that it was suitable for his situation.

The last days he had gone through the guard's house and now the stewards were next in line. He would follow Sansa the day, assist her with her correspondence instead of her usual scrivener and staying with her during court before switching to Tyrion tomorrow, just so he could see what they were doing.

Sansa had no intention to abuse her brother in any form like Tyrion suggested.

"Really?" Her husband asked her with wide eyes before rubbing his hands together with a mischievous smile. "Then I will have to do it. I will interrogate him about the past. I hope to learn so much more about your past my dear."

"Oh, you won't." Sansa made clear, shooting him a dangerous glare, but sadly it only made him grin. "If you do I will personally write your sister and ask her about some details."

"Of what are you so afraid Sansa?" Tyrion questioned, still grinning, not moved by her threat. "Were there others than me? Maybe a Handmaiden?" He asked devilish, smirking even wider, causing Sansa to fix him with her glare again

"Of nothing. I am afraid of nothing" Sansa exhaled, crossing her arms over her chest. "But a Lady should have secrets and if you don't want to sleep in the stables you let my brother in peace."

"There must be something horrible" He chuckled theatrically, leaning back in his chair. And then Sansa spotted one of his hands moving aside.

"Don't you dare" Sansa threatened, pointing with her finger at the welcome distraction.

"What now?" Tyrion still grinned and shot his empty hands in the air.

"I saw that you gave Lady one of this disgusting fishes of yours!"

"No I didn't"

"Don't lie to me, I can see when you lie."

"Then I am sorry." Tyrion bowed his head with a smile, Sansa knew he wasn't sorry but for the moment she was glad the other topic was off the table.

"Fine, but beware, I will know." Sansa warned him, only being able to keep a straight face for a moment before chuckling: "I always know."

"As if I would suspect differ." Tyrion grinned back, most likely already plotting to circumvent her warning. Sansa knew they weren't much other than a challenge for him, a problem he could try to solve, he liked that. "Something else," Tyrion suddenly said nonchalant out of nowhere, a way Sansa had to suspect something was up. "Due to all the work, the catching up and the services I promised to your younger brother, I won't be able to attend to court today."

"Won't you?" Sansa asked suspicious in his apologetic face, mustering him thorough. "Strange, I remember saying to you that I won't allow you to use my brother's dreams as an excuse to escape your work. Or doesn't my memory serves me right?"

"Only today, my Lady"

"Fine, only today."

-##-

After breaking their fast Tyrion excused himself quickly to the library, leaving Sansa with a kiss on her cheek, his breath stinking like fish. Soon after he left her Sansa left herself, Lady following her.

Jon already waited for her in the hallway, Ghost not at his side. The white Direwolf didn't like the cave like halls of the Rock and preferred to walk free in the gardens or the yards, only being with Jon when absolute necessary.

"You look good Jon" Sansa greeted her bastard brother, mustering his new clothes. He had been given a red and grey doublet with a Direwolf embroidered on it, his hair had been cut and his boot were polished.

"Thank you." Jon replied looking uncomfortable in his own skin. "You look good too."

"I know." Sansa smiled at him and hooked her arm under his to guide him to her solar. He had a grim expression on his face, so much like Robb had all the time. "You should smile, you know, or do you dislike the colour so much?"

"No, no it's just…"

"I know, it's hard to get used to first." Sansa interrupted him, patting him on the shoulder. She was as tall as he was by now, dragging her through the halls of the castle up. "And how do you like it so far?"

"I am fine, thank you." He answered uncommunicative

"Why so depressed? Did Cerenna stopped circling around you?" Sansa asked amused, she had observed the interest her friend had taken in Jon.

"No, not even after she heard I am… but… I am not sure why… she is so…. I am not sure."

"What? Sorry if I have to break it to you but she don't want to marry you anyway, you know that right?" Sansa explained to him carefully, sensing his distress. "The Rock is different than Winterfell. Don't worry you will see."

The bewildered look on her half-brother's face was too funny and caused her to giggle. Sansa considered to warning him about Cerenna Lannister but decided not to. She wasn't dangerous, just wanted to be admired by everyone, what caused her to make sure everybody knew how beautiful she was and declared it for her. Jon was new, meaning he was a new victim to seduce for her, simply because most of the inhabitants of the Rock already knew her game. She would turn his head but nothing more, Jon would understand soon.

By the time they arrived at her solar Sansa had learned all of her brother's new experiences at the Rock, giving him advice whenever she had been able to.

Sansa's solar was a bright lighted room on the south side of the castle, with an impressive view over Lannisport. In the centre of the room stood her large desk, made out of dornish wood facing the large oak doors. At the sides of the room were small tables for scrivener or assistance in front of large shelves full with documents and parchment.

Sansa sat down behind the desk, Lady curling up at her feet, and started working ,going through her correspondence and requests. She had still much to catch up to, her desk was bursting with piles of letters and other pages and every day came more.

Jon sat down on one of the smaller tables, at the beginning not sure what to do with himself but Sansa quickly found enough work for him. Copying her letters, filing her work or ordering something, making an accounting and all sorts of work, causing him to groan loudly after less than four hours.

"Exhausted?" Sansa asked amused, mustering her brother who were slumped over his little desk.

"You do this every day?" Jon asked unbelieving, sighing loudly.

"Not every day, but most of the time" Sansa informed him, leaning back with a grin. "What did you think I am doing all day? Giggling with the other Ladies, drinking wine and spending Tyrion's money while occasionally waving my hand to the small folk?"

"Actually…"

"Oh, believe me brother, being a Lady of a castle like Casterly Rock is at least as strength consuming as being the Lord, only that a Lady don't get to complain that often." Sansa smiled sweet, seeing his stunned face. "I have to work from sunrise to sundown, keeping this castle, the Westerlands and family running. Additionally I have to look stunning every day as if I would do nothing at all, all day, being a sweet perfect Lady. Not to mention I have to host feasts, make conversation with the guests, controlling the Household."

"All on your own?" Jon asked with his wide eyes, his mouth standing open.

"Of course not, I have help like everybody else has, I am not working alone so I can have my time with the other Ladies, attending my social duties which are no less important than all these" Sansa opened her arms over her desk. "I have my free times, sometimes more sometimes less but that doesn't mean I have no work, and this war makes it all even harder." Sansa explained to her brother, not bothering him with everything, like the constant requests from the family, not to mention her duties as a wife. Yes, she had Genna and Dorna to help her but with the years at the Rock more and more task had been bestowed on her alone.

"I had no idea."

"Why would you, no man has."

-##-

The day crept along very slowly and Sansa's head had begun to throb. The mass of papers she had to deal with was too much, even for her. She and Jon had only taken a quick dinner on their desks in between working so they could cover as much as possible. An opportunity for Sansa to warn her brother about Tyrion's intend to interrogate him the next day, warning him not to tell anything or to fear her vengeance.

When the sun were going down they made their way to the old throne room. With a sour mood, because Tyrion wasn't there with her to listen to the petitioners for the evening, Sansa placed herself on the lioness throne feeling the sunlight on her back she observed how her dress turned crimson red and started shimmering like a ruby.

Lady sat beside her, not on the side of the lion throne, on the other side, visibly excited for what would come, it would be her first court today. Sansa laid her hand on her wolf's head, scratching her behind her ear. Jon took a position at the side, lining in with Davon and Cleos who had arrived just before them.

The court session was easy to handle for Sansa, mostly there were Lords and Ladies wanting to greet Tyrion and her back in the Westerlands, bowing their heads. Other came to explain why they weren't at war in the south and complaining that they had to pay so much for the war. All in all nothing of importance.

Nevertheless the highlight was when Lord Keron and the Lord of the Crag were competing who would have the best statue of Coranna, an old Queen of the west. They came to the court to demand the other should cease to build a monument for her. Sansa had nearly burst into loud giggling at their childish bickering about who was the best.

However, Sansa was glad when it was over, she was exhausted by the day and at the end only longed for her bed. After she had excused the court and was about to make her way Jon stepped up to her, something in his eyes.

"This was… you were so…" He stammered astonished, making Sansa smiled at his praise. "You were so sovereign…"

"I know, you sound surprises again" Sansa grinned and turned to leave when Lydia, one of her handmaiden came up to her and whispered news in her ear.

At her whispered news Sansa's blood started to boil immediately, her stomach twisting. Balling her fists she stormed out of the room.

* * *

**Cliffhanger!**

**Finally a Sansa chapter**

**A few things first, about Sansa's abilities: GRRM confirmed she is a warg like her siblings and seeing her in AFFC there is the theory her warging is more like empathy, I am not sure about that but I think about going that way**

**Next: I always hear how spoiled Sansa is: IMO she deserves to be treated that way and now you also see she works hard for it ;)**

**I think I need a creative pause with this fic, I will see**


	23. Tyrion II

**Hello my friends**

**Hard weekend I survived my niece's christening, now I am not only uncle but godfather as well, a great day and here is the last deed I have to do:**

**Before: MissyMeth1992 I wrote you a PM**

**There will be a betaed version of this chapter soon**

**I own nothing**

* * *

Tyrion leisurely waddled through the halls, heading to the library. The sun was already high in the sky and the light streamed warm through the lead glass windows in the long corridors. Servants moved busy around him, pursuing whatever task they had to fulfil today.

Tyrion didn't pay much attention to them when they walked pass him, bowing to their Lord, his mind was musing over the pleasant morning he just had had.

He smiled inwardly at the thought of Sansa and him staying in bed during the morning. He also would have loved to stay in bed for the entire day, just like Sansa had wanted, but sadly she was right, they couldn't. She was right as always, always the dutiful Lady, while he preferred to be the wicked Lord.

The morning had helped him to get distracted from of Jaime as well. He still worried about his brother, but by now he realised he had no chance to do anything at all except for praying, and he wasn't a very good prayer. Jaime was the worrier of the family, if anybody could survive, he was it. But however the day had started so good he couldn't protest.

But he still wished to be back in Sansa's arms again, a desire filled him. Only a little bit more missed and he would have turned around to her. He maybe wasn't able to carry her off her feet and to the bed in a romantic, passionate way. _I could try, my arms could carry her but my feet wouldn't. _But he still could take her hand and drag her in the next alcove, or he could send her brother out of her solar and they could do it on the desk again.

Tyrion's mouth watered at his thoughts of her, he imagined her making the little sounds he loved so much, her warm lips on his. He had to stop for a moment and leaned his head against the cold stone of the wall to catch his breath.

Before he started walking again Tyrion decided to visit Sansa for dinner, a little surprise for her to their mutual benefit. They were finally back home and Tyrion had the intent not only to catch up on paperwork but on their lost private days too, sadly so far their duties stood in the way.

Reaching two staircases Tyrion took the left one to the library instead of the right to his solar, he could do his catching up in the afternoon. Climbing up the high stairs, suppressing the urge to call an architect to redo all stairs in his castle to fit them to his needs, like he had wanted so often, Tyrion's thought wandered to Jon Snow and the possible secrets his wife seemed so afraid of.

Previously to this morning he hadn't expected to get more than a little story about Sansa making a childish jest or an embarrassing truth like her sliding in a pond or something like that from her half-brother. But now he wasn't so sure anymore.

He might trusted Sansa but her reaction was so forbidding that his mind told him there was something really ugly he wasn't supposed to know. And naturally he wanted to know it now. Of course, he hoped it would be something naughty, like Sansa practicing kissing with a servant girl, or two, he would like that so much, but he feared something else.

But on the other hand, whatever it was, nothing couldn't be so bad. Sansa had been a maid, he remembered, an innocent girl before he came with his wicked mind. He had no idea why she was so troubled about her secret. But Tyrion had literary the need to find out the truth, somehow he had to tickle it out of Jon Snow.

His plotting on how to get the desired information was interrupted by a very unwanted sight in front of the library doors. Tyrion stopped in motion before Thallarde, the main steward of Casterly Rock, glaring up to the man eying him with a raised eyebrow and impassionate expression.

Thallarde was a thin, lean, tall man with a long white beard that had little remains of black hair in it. He was the main steward, secretary and more at the Rock. The condescending, arrogant pain in the arse, who thought himself the only reason why the Rock didn't collapse was the last relict of his father's rule and the only one Tyrion couldn't get rid of, simply because the man's attitude about himself was sadly more than right.

"I suppose my Lord won't begin his day with the reports" Thallarde commented Tyrion's arrival at the library in his monotone voice, standing straight before Tyrion with his arms behind his back.

_He is ancient, a wonder he still stand_

Thallarde was responsible for the Lord's solar and all around it, he took care of the supply for guards, arms and overviewed the work of the scriveners, a bit like a Maester, luckily this scope of duties caused that he never interfered with Sansa, sadly it interfered with Tyrion. Lord Tywin had never liked Maesters interfering with the daily business of his castle, not truly trusting the, so he employed likes of Thallarde. For more than thirty years he had worked, no dedicated his life to Lord Tywin. And even if he had never been important enough to be more than an assistant to do Tyrion's father's bidding the man thought of himself to be one of the few who had enjoyed Lord Tywin's trust. But Tyrion knew he was never more than another faceless servant for his father, but sadly his experience and contacts made him indispensable by now and Tyrion had to keep him. Even Genna and Kevan agreed on this necessary evil.

"I already started the day, and in something much sweeter than reports" Tyrion an answer at the man, he thought to be his father's last cruel joke towards him, if Lord Tywin ever possessed something like humour at least. "Disappointed?"

"My Lord, my personal opinion of you or what my Lord have to do to disappoint me is irrelevant. With all due respect it's only my position to serve and remind my Lord of his outstanding work" Thallarde's steady, condescending tone made Tyrion's hand itchy. If he would ever consider to throw an obvious virgin form a cliff it would be Thallarde.

"At least we agree on the unimportance of your opinion" Tyrion mocked him but sadly there was no reaction from him. "But however, prepare everything for me, you know read my letters and so forth I will be in my solar after noon" Tyrion declared but then remembered Sansa. "No, wait. I will be there an hour or two later." Tyrion informed the conceited and at the same time impassive starring man with a gin and excused him with a wave of his hand before he marched forward, forcing him to step aside when Tyrion entered the library without a glance back.

Tyrion didn't waste another single thought on the man while making his way through the tables and shelves to the hidden staircase. Rounding a crooked standing bookshelf he reached his destination, a small staircase up to a cold solitary chamber.

His father had never had a liking for what he called so freely; superstitious nonsense. Out of his detestation Lord Tywin had banished all books containing these sorts of materials from the library. Luckily he had been too proud to destroy the ancient and expensive texts which after all took their part in making the collection of the Rock so unique.

So the books ended up in the cold chamber Tyrion now climbed up to. He had never known about the books until the day he had fallen from his ladder and taken the entire shelf hiding the entrance with him.

After he had woken up with a booming head, buried in books and under the shelf he had found the door hidden behind the shelf. Bruised and with arching limps he had made his way up to the chamber, driven by his own curiosity, he had been astonished by the amount of books.

First Tyrion had thought he would have found another collection of erotic texts from all over the world, like the once he had found in a hidden room attached to his father's second solar, after his death. Lord Tywin or Lord Tytos like Kevan claimed to obviously protect his brother, had had a very exquisite taste indeed but Tyrion had still vomited the moment he had realised what he had found. He had made a wine monger very rich because of his will to remove the images out of his head later on.

But the books and parchments in the room he was heading to now were different. Old texts, some even in the old tongue, Tyrion couldn't read. History of the old Kingdoms and the age of Heroes, but with a twist. All books contained magic some were even compendiums about how to use magic and magic creatures and phenomena. Tyrion had begun to love these books he had tried one of the spells but had failed, nothing had happened.

He had discounted what he had found as nonsense like his father had, and then he had married Sansa and the interest in the books were forgotten. But then he had failed to find anything about Bran's dream or Sansa's and Lady's bond.

A Lannister pays his debts, so he had decided to revisit the banished books and he found what he had searched for. Somehow

With aching legs Tyrion reached the chamber and pushed the old door open. Inside were high piles of books, a forest of paper trees without leaves. Tyrion made his way through the piles and books lying on the floor, he briefly thought about finally sending a servant up to the chamber to clean up, but on the other hand he didn't want to share his treasure. Even Sansa didn't know about these books, but simply because they had never been coming up.

In a corner, near the only dirty glass window stood a small table and an old smelling armchair. Tyrion took his seat in the smelling cushions, putting the leftover cheese from the last day aside before opening the window and emptying the still half full cup of wine down the outside walls before closing the window to shield himself from the autumn winds.

There were only a few candles left and Tyrion made a mental note to bring new the next time while he lightened three of them. He filled his cup with fresh wine and pulled the open book from the side of his table to continue where he had left the other day.

He had found the book two days prior, a Maester of the Citadel serving at Winterfell had written it more than five hundred years ago. The book described the ancient powers the Children of the Forest supposedly gifted the men of the old blood with, as well as introducing the White Walkers and other fantastic beings in the North and beyond the Wall.

First the text had sounded like one of the stories the wet nurse, Sansa had told him of, Tyrion didn't remember her name, told the Stark children. Tyrion never really believed in Grumpkins and Snarks or the mermaids in Lannisport, same was for the content of the book.

Until he came across a chapter with the title: _Wargs and Skinchangers _Exactly what he had been looking for. A warg was supposed to be able to control other living beings by bonding with their mind. Tyrion found the topic ingratiating and on a certain level frightening, because of the similarities he saw to his observations.

He postulated the theory that Sansa could indeed be a warg, an interesting idea. But only an idea.

Tyrion had no means to prove he was right or wrong and it had been late the last day. He decided to reread the chapter to find some more information.

But the idea was interesting. Tyrion already imagined Sansa taking control over a bird and shitting on certain heads.

The book indicated nothing how such abilities manifested their selves or if dreaming was a known side-effect. Disappointed he searched for more browsing in the book hoping for a word jumping in his eyesight. Tyrion was near giving up and calling the book imagination of a Maester who most likely paid an old hag for some nonsense when a word finally jumped at him: _three eyed_

_The third eye are a symbol for the ability of greenseeing…_

His mind lightened again Tyrion started to read, remembering Bran's description of a crow with three eyes, devouring every word. Hunched over the book he read page for page, greenseeing and more warging and something about a cave somewhere.

Tyrion felt he was near to an answer to one of his questions instead of more questions when a sudden knock startled him.

Tyrion's heart jumped then intermit for a second. Tyrion grabbed with his hand to his chest, panting heavily. Nobody was supposed to know about the room, who could be here?

He turned around, eyes wide and still startled, only to find Thallarde standing in the dim light of the candles, tall and with the light shadowing his sunken cheeks.

"My Lord" He greeted Tyrion impassive, his mouth not moving he removed his hand from a pillar. NO sign of amusement about Tyrion's startle to detect. Tyrion could only stare at him, still panting heavily. _Did he wanted to kill me?_

"Thallarde?" Tyrion finally managed to press out, his chest cramped. He had turned in his seat, looking over his shoulder at the steward.

"Indeed my Lord"

"What? How?" Tyrion stammered, still puzzled before he finally managed to put his mind in order. "How did you know I am here? Why do you know of this place?"

"To answer my Lords first question, my Lord simply weren't elsewhere and secondly: With all due respect who my Lord thinks were entrusted with removing this _filth_ from the library by your predecessor?" He explained plain, eying the surrounding disdainful "The Lord of Casterly Rock shouldn't concern himself with such dirt."

"Luckily I am the Lord and I decide where I put my nose in" Tyrion lectured him, on the edge of wrath.

"So it seems my Lord" If Tyrion listened closely he could hear the condemnation the man tried to hide so well. But Tyrion had not the nerve to deal with him now.

"What is it?" He asked sighing, deducting from the fact that it wasn't even noon something had to be up. Even Thallarde wouldn't dare to interrupt him without a reason.

"We received a raven from the King" Tyrion's vexatious steward informed him in his all nerve eating steady voice.

"And it was one fire and couldn't wait until this afternoon right?" Tyrion asked sarcastic, jumping out of the chair with an angry huff and glared up to the old man: "What did my dear nephew sends me? A puppy head or his declaration of love for me?"

"An order" The old steward retorted and held out a single piece of paper, just far away enough so Tyrion had to come to him. He angrily grabbed it, wishing he wouldn't need the old man anymore and started to read. Only to stop when Thallarde started explaining him the content as if he would be incapable: "Our highborn Queen" He started, not hiding his affection for Cersei, something Tyrion never liked, "and the King's Regent order my Lord to immediately take actions against the false King Lord Greyjoy. My Lord is to be to invade the Iron Islands and to destroy the Ironborn. A noble fulfilment of the duty of a true Lord of Casterly Rock"

Tyrion again decided to overhear the man's taunting and read the letter himself, sighing when he read that this bane had told the truth and nearly laughing hearing the reason for the sudden decision to attack the Islands.

"Call Damion in my solar, nobody else" Tyrion instructed Thallarde who excused himself with a sharp but only tiny bow of his head. While being annoyed about his lost dinner with Sansa Tyrion asked himself who was the greater bungler:

Lord Stark for relying on the old name of House Tyrell, and the loyalty of its members as well as on the loyalty of the Reachlords he had just beaten, his sister for thinking she could master another great House in King's Landing, one that would do everything to enhance its position in different to Stark or the Tyrells for being foolish enough to weasel themselves out of the hole they dig with supporting Renly by giving themselves in Cersei's _gentle_ hands. After all Tyrion had heard Lord Stark wasn't more than a weak robe holding his sister back.

He feared this could become ugly sooner rather than later.

-##-

"Please tell me we can manage my sweet sisters _little_ wish without further complications?" Tyrion asked his cousin, overwhelmed by the reports he somehow already brought with him. Damion sat across him in the armchair in Tyrion's solar. Tyrion had sent all away so he could talk alone with the most experienced warrior left at the Rock.

Visibly Damion was as excited as Tyrion to go to war against the Ironborn. He would have liked to go to war against Renly but Kevan thought the Rock would need a good castellan in case of something unexpected. But the Ironborn were something entirely different.

"Pirates and pillages, no real soldiers" Damion had snorted at the reveal of the new target for the Westermen. And now he visibly pondered about Tyrion's question, his hand stroking his beard. Tyrion used the time to refill his cub, his head hurt and he hoped a bit wine would help. He had no interest whatsoever to go to war but was afraid this time he would have to.

He had been able to avoid going to war with Renly, he wasn't near Casterly Rock that time but now he wouldn't be able to escape his lordly duties anymore. He had never fought in a battle before, the pure thought of a battle made him sick. But he was the Lord of the Westerlands and he would have to go, commanding his troops. He could die. _Maybe Cersei speculates on such an outcome?_

It wasn't that he was afraid or thinking himself incapable of command. Tyrion thought of himself as quite capable of winning battles, he had read all books about warfare and dirty tricks. But he wasn't Jaime either. He would have to do it like his father, waiting behind the lines in a fancy armour and overlooking the battle according to his strategy.

He would need an amour, he thought suddenly, thinking about how it should look like. Maybe Sansa would have an idea. Something fancy with golden lions and thick steel.

_She won't be very happy_ the realisation about Sansa's most likely reaction came to Tyrion as a shock, causing him to cough on his wine, startling Damion out of his thoughts but Tyrion signalled him all would be all right and his cousin returned to his pondering.

This expedition would be the first time Tyrion would be separated from Sansa and the thought of not sharing her bed, even if only for a few day didn't suit him very well. He had become so depending on her that he had no idea if he could manage to be separate from her. He couldn't take her with him, it was too dangerous for her. He wouldn't be able to bear the thought something happened to her because of him. A thousand scenarios raced through his head making Tyrion feel dizzy but luckily for him Damion pulled him back by clearing his throat, a signal he had thought enough.

Tyrion caught himself and focused his attention on his older cousin, rising an eyebrow to show him he could start.

"If we are fast and muster enough troops we could do it" He simply explained Tyrion, factual and clear. "The Lannister fleet is still not on full strength but I think we have enough ships to attack the Islands."

"How many men would we have to muster what do you think?" Tyrion asked, playing with numbers in his head himself. He had to admit he had never really cared about soldiers. It had always seemed his father would have an unlimited supply of them. And even if not, Lannister gold could buy any Sellsword company in Essos, if necessary.

"Ten thousand, if ever." Damion took one of the parchments on the desk. "If the information we have is right then the Ironborn are already on their way south, meaning the islands should be relatively unprotected."

"So your suggestion is we take the islands and then what? The Ironborn surrender when they come home?" Tyrion asked, his head working mercilessly. "I don't think so, either they will fight or search a new home, maybe the Westerlands."

"Or they stay south"

"I doubt that dear cousin" Tyrion smiled humourlessly "We should definitely come up with something better."

-##-

The rest of the day Tyrion spent with Damion discussing the best strategies and preparing everything for the war to come. Tyrion was tired and after the sun went down he was glad to leave his solar, but confident they had found a solution, the invasion would begin in the next two weeks.

However, now he was slowly wandering back to his chambers, delaying his arrival because he still had to face the hardest part: Informing Sansa. He wasn't sure how she would take it, he would leave, and to top it he had decided to take her brother with him. Tyrion had noticed Jon Snow seemed off because he didn't do his share of fighting, Tyrion would change that.

Finally arriving at the doors of their shared chambers Tyrion noticed her handmaiden standing in front of the door, an uneasy expression on their faces. They avoided to look at him, even more than usual and it troubled Tyrion.

But not wanting to wait any longer he walked pass them and opened the thick oak door, slipping in a dimly lit chamber. Searching the first room for Sansa he couldn't find any trace of her and headed for the living area, not wanting to call out.

Again he slipped in the room but this time the room was lit by dozens of candles and Sansa's shadow was clearly visibly in front of the large window. But something wasn't right, Tyrion could feel it, the atmosphere was too tense.

Something brushed at his backside and with a loud boom the door closed behind him. Turning around, bewildered what happened Tyrion found Lady, glaring at him with her yellow eyes. Tyrion had never seen the Direwolf like that, she circled him dangerously like he would be prey. If a wolf could express anger without snarling than Lady just did so.

Still puzzled but with a dark suspicion Tyrion turned back to Sansa, standing unmoving in all her grace before the window, arms crossed over her chest. She looked intimidating, not unlike her Direwolf, her eyes burning angry on her shadowed face.

"I will not allow it" She declared icy, determined but Tyrion could hear something like unsteadiness in her tone too.

"Sansa" Tyrion addressed her helpless, stepping forward with pleading hands. She knew, everything, her tone, Lady, everything only allowed one conclusion: She knew. There was no way to deny it or argue. Missing options Tyrion said: "It's my duty, my Lady, I can't"

"I don't care" Sansa yelled at him, nearly jumping in rage. Tyrion took a step back, feeling smaller than normal. It was like a hand would have gripped his heart. She had never been angry like this. Tyrion couldn't avoid to feel depraved, he was it who caused her anger, or sorrow. "What do you even think? Did you even think? What does your sister or my father think?" Sansa obsessing herself in a tantrum: "You can't go to war, not you"

"I am the Lord of the Westerlands…"

"You can't even hold a sword properly!" Sansa stepped closer to him, her face coming in the light. Tyrion took another step back, mouth opening and eyes wide. Her face was red, matching her hair, her eyes burning and little tears streaming down her cheeks. Her tone changed, staying angry sadness and little sniffs mixed in her words: "Don't deny it. You couldn't even inspect a sword you wanted to gift someone without nearly trapping over. You can't … No … you won't go to battle and get yourself killed"

"Sansa" Tyrion approached her carefully, trying to keep his voice steady, strong. She was right, but he had to go. He reached out his hand but she backed away, slowly disappearing to the window and sinking down on the cushioned bench. Her body slumped down and she braced her elbows on her knees, head down.

"I won't allow it." She cried in earnest now, her hands balled to fists.

"It is my duty" He repeated his thoughts for her, aware how empty they sounded while he approached her further.

"I don't care!" Sansa screamed in the room. "I don't want you to die because of stupid duty. How dare you to even consider going to fight?"

Lady brushed away besides Tyrion and brought her nose to Sansa's face, only to be pushed away.

"You will die"

"I will not die Sansa" Tyrion assured her, a half-smile crossing his face, another empty gesture but he had no idea what else to do.

"You are more likely to die than the rest."

"I am a Lord my Lady"

"A Lord who can't wield a sword." Sansa cried but her voice became lower, more negotiating. "Send somebody else, anybody. How can you consider bringing yourself in danger and letting me behind, letting me alone."

"If I could I would stay, I want nothing more than stay" Tyrion laid his hand on his wife's knee, pressing gently. "But I am ordered to invade the Iron Islands and have to obey"

"No, you haven't" Sansa looked up to him, her eyes watered and her face painful. Tyrion's heart was gripped tighter. "How can they, how can my father send you away, send you to death."

"I am not death yet and won't consider at no further. Tyrion cupped Sansa's cheek, using his thumb to wipe away tears. He felt her hand on his arm, wandering to his shoulder and then to his head. "We all must do our part."

"Then do something else"

"We both know I can't" Tyrion leaned to her and kissed her forehead, stepping between her legs.

"Promise me you come back" Little sobs escaped her, Sansa pressed against him

"Nothing in the world will keep me from you longer than absolute necessary."

"Or I will come for you" Sansa laid both her arms around him and buried her head in his neck. Tyrion stroke her hair, leaning against her head while his heart was still aching.

* * *

**So, fuck creative pause, at least for now, but I am not sure about next week, I am sick, a cold or something and tomorrow uni starts again**

**I am not sure if I can manage another chapter, but I try, so this is just a warning in case next week the chapter won't be published**

**Have a nice week**

**Ugh I am in a good mood, I must change that**


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